Yoake Mae no Yami ni
by Mirune Keishiko
Summary: Seisou Hen spoilers. Friends gather after many long years to mourn the passing of one and of another soon to follow. In the darkness before the dawn, is fifteen years enough time to forget and heal? COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

hehehe... konnichi wa. My fanfic-writing skills are a bit rusty from lying unused for so long, but I hope this fic will still manage to please, that I do. ^.^  
  
A summary: angst, drama, multipart incomplete, romance S&M, Seisou Hen spoilers.  
  
The story is still coalescing--or would "congealing" be more precise? ^.^ --in my head as I write, so I beggar your patience as the updates come. I'm just stealing time from schoolwork to scribble, but sometimes there just doesn't seem to be enough time to steal. @.@x also I beggar your input!! Please please be so kind as to post your comments and suggestions!!! ^.^  
  
Enough blather eh? Standard disclaimers apply, then. Domo arigatou, as ever.  
  
---  
  
Yoake Mae no Yami ni  
  
Mirune Keishiko  
  
Prologue  
  
Bright stars spangled the black-blue vastness that stretched from one mountainous horizon to another. Around a fire blazing high in the midst of the grassy plain, nearly fifty men of bulky build and roughly made clothes were gathered, the clink of clay vessels mingling with lively talk and raucous laughter. Tents, horses, and cattle loomed as monstrous shadows for miles around.  
  
One man, lankier and taller than many of the others, sat on the ground some way apart from his comrades, head lowered as if brooding. His long, untamed hair was held out of his face with a headband, but his eyes remained in shadow. A cup at his side half full of heady drink had been sitting untouched for some time.  
  
The distant, high-pitched cry of a hawk flying far overhead was lost to those making merry around the fire, but the tall man looked up, scanning the night sky intently. In the half-light of a sliver of moon a small shape circled, growing larger in the man's eyes as it dipped ever lower. Then, with a final screech of recognition, the hawk landed on the ground before the man and calmly folded its formidable wings. A small scrollcase was tied to its foot.  
  
The man said something in gruff, affectionate tones, stealing a stroke along the hawk's plumed back before the great bird reared and snapped at his hand with its large, strong beak. Laughing, the man then got up and disappeared into a nearby tent for several moments. He reemerged and tossed two dead hares before the hawk, which eagerly set upon them. Thus occupied, the bird paid no attention to him as he knelt and untied the scrollcase.  
  
It was a short message, in writing poignantly familiar. It took only a few minutes to read and reread the characters that were clearly and precisely formed despite the gravity of their meaning. The man stood unmoving for several minutes, staring off into space with dark unreadable eyes, the message crumpled into a suddenly fisted hand.  
  
As the hawk dug into the second hare with particular vigor, a gout of dark, half-congealed blood spattered along the ground and onto the man's long pants. He broke from his reverie with a start and a good-natured curse, to which the hawk responded with a loud, placid chirp. Staring ruefully at the newly creased message, he carefully refolded it and tucked it into a pocket inside his coarse tunic. For another minute he stood there, eyes focused intensely at nothing.  
  
Then he turned and walked back to the tent, leaving the hawk busily stripping the hares' bones. He would give himself half an hour to pack.  
  
~ tsuzuku ~ 


	2. At the Close of the Day

Again, standard disclaimers apply. I'm making no money out of this, more's the pity. ^.^

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

One:  At the Close of the Day

The last rays of honeyed sunlight fell in shafts through the open shoji, warming the light blue kimono that was neatly folded over its stand in the corner.  A hair ribbon hung beside it, the indigo faded from years of use.  From her futon, slanted so the light would not dazzle her heavy-lidded eyes, Himura Kaoru watched the ribbon flutter idly with the wind and smiled.

Takani Megumi came bustling in with an armful of freshly laundered linens, keen cinnamon eyes taking quick stock of her patient's condition.  The doctor found herself beaming at the serenity in the younger woman's face.

"You seem better, Kaoru-chan."  Megumi laid the linens on the floor and opened the cabinet.

"Mmm," smiled Kaoru.  The ribbon continued to dance in the breeze.  "Daijoubu."

It wasn't a total lie, she reasoned in that part of her mind that managed to remain lucid despite the ever-present pain.  She _was_ all right, in a way, in the way that really mattered--though Megumi would probably disagree with her on that point.

"I'm going to be fine, Megumi-san," she added with a little, rasping laugh.  "Don't worry so much."

Megumi kept her face carefully turned away as she folded the linens neatly into the cabinet.  When she spoke at last, her voice was light.  "I'm glad the medicine seems to be working, at any rate."

"Under your care, I don't think any patient would lack anything."  Kaoru's eyes slipped shut; it took too much effort to keep them open.  As the hollow, acid pain began to gnaw more fiercely at her insides, she swallowed hard, biting her lip to prevent herself moaning.

Megumi shut the linen cabinet and moved to the open shoji to watch the last of the pink clouds turn blue-gray with twilight.  She didn't see Kaoru's trembling fingers fidgeting with the edge of her blanket.

"I can't blame you for wanting these open," the doctor mused.  "With winter coming on, we'll have to enjoy what's left of this mild weather."

Mustering her remaining strength, Kaoru tried to feign enough cheer to respond.  But suddenly white-hot agony coursed through her and she whimpered instead, tears filling her eyes despite herself.  At the tiny, strangled sound, Megumi whirled toward her, her face almost as pale as her friend's.  The doctor was beside the bed in a moment, pressing a hand to the suddenly sweat-beaded forehead.

"Sumanai, Kaoru-chan," she murmured.  "And I was so caught up in..."  She cut herself off.  Casting a last anxious glance back at the woman whose hands were twisting in her sheets, Megumi hurried out the door.  She nearly collided into Yahiko, who had just dismissed the dojo's students for the day.

"Kaoru?"  Yahiko's voice was grim.

Megumi shook her head, willing away the mounting fear and grief in her mind.  It was knowledge and reason she had to focus on now, not emotion.  "Stay with her while I fix something.  I won't take long."  Not waiting for a response, she nearly ran on to the kitchen where she kept her supplies.  The similarly hasty footsteps behind her told her Yahiko had taken her word for it.

He was sitting beside the bed and watching Kaoru wordlessly when Megumi arrived with bitter tea.  Soon Kaoru was sleeping fitfully again, long slender fingers clawing at her blanket from unpleasant dreams.  The fever still raged, but--judging from the previous times Megumi had administered the medicine--it would soon subside.  Megumi made sure Kaoru was as comfortable as possible before slowly gathering the tea things and carrying them back to the kitchen, lost in thought.

Over the past few weeks, the effects of the medicine had been wearing off sooner than they normally did.  Was Kaoru building some sort of resistance to the treatment?  If she were, would Megumi have to administer increasingly stronger dosages--or a different drug?

At the thought, Megumi closed her eyes and sighed.  There _was_ one very potent analgesic she knew of...

Sounds from the direction of the gate told her that Tsubame was home from the Akabeko.  Graciously greeting the student who had opened the gate for her, the young woman went straight to Kaoru's room, as if already knowing that her husband would be there.  Megumi, hearing her light footfalls from the kitchen, half smiled to herself.  The Myoujin couple was hardly the most demonstrative in Tokyo--Tsubame became flustered whenever Yahiko so much as called her name in public--but the bond between husband and wife was nonetheless as strong and rich as it was tacit.

Dusk deepened into evening without further incident.  Kaoru slept on; the fever soon receded, though judging from her creased brow the pain did not.  After dinner, Tsubame disappeared into the kitchen for washing up, and Megumi went to join Yahiko outside on the porch.

The kenkaku was sitting up against the post, his sword propped up against his shoulder as he gazed up at the starry sky.  Megumi, emerging from the dining hall, paused to stare at the strong profile he cut against the bright moonlight.  In the gray-and-black shadows of the house, were it not for his spiky hair, he could almost have been Kenshin--sitting, restful yet vigilant as ever, blade at the ready.  She wondered whether his imitation was unconscious or deliberate.

"Yahiko-kun," she said by way of greeting as she approached.

"Megumi."  He turned and nodded.  She knelt down beside him and, for long moments, neither spoke.  Yahiko continued to stargaze while Megumi absent-mindedly contemplated the play of moonlight on the bamboo leaves by the wall.

At last, with some effort, she recollected her thoughts.  "Yahiko," she said again quietly, "something worries me about Kaoru-chan."

He nodded again, without looking at her.  "She's not lasting much longer, ne."

It wasn't a question.  Immediately the doctor in Megumi recoiled-- /No! There's still a way... there _must_ be a way, and I'll find it!/  Stifling the thought as quickly as she could, knowing it was fueled mostly by despair and instinct, Megumi allowed herself a frustrated sigh.

"I'm afraid not.  This... thing... is eating her from the inside out.  I'm doing everything I can, and I've been reading and exchanging correspondence with other doctors, but the few who seem to know anything at all about this disease still can't..."

She fell silent as Yahiko finally did look at her.  Not for the first time in the five months she'd been staying at the dojo tending Kaoru did Megumi marvel at the maturity in his large dark eyes.  Then again--she mused as an afterthought--neither was it the first time in the fifteen years she'd known him.

"Daijoubu, Megumi," he said quietly, and Megumi thought she was him smiling mildly in the darkness.  "Maybe... that's really all there is to it."

Megumi bowed her head, hiding her face with her long black hair.  "Maybe one more month," she said after a pause.  She knew she sounded stubborn, but she felt she had to try.  "The pain has been getting steadily worse for her.  The effects of the medicine I've been using seem to be weakening, which isn't really surprising.  There may come a time, fairly soon, when it will have hardly any effect at all."

Yahiko said nothing, but a visible shudder shook his lean frame for an instant.  Megumi watched this with detached interest, a question forming in her mind that she saved up to ask another time.

"As near as I can figure, the pain is due to some kind of internal organ failure.  She seems mentally intact, and appears lucid enough when the medicine works."  Megumi's clinical professionalism was once again well in place; as long as she didn't mention Kaoru's name, she thought, she could bear to think of the younger woman as simply another patient, yet another intriguing medical puzzle with which to challenge her skills and knowledge.  "So I'm thinking of administering a more"--she paused to choose her words--"effective medicine should the pain interfere too much with the life she still has left."

"You think she's suffered enough?"  Yahiko's voice was low and even, his tone gentle--far gentler than any other tone she had heard him use before.  Somewhat startled, Megumi peered through the rapidly deepening darkness at him; but his face was turned away again out of her sight.

Megumi paused, and when she spoke again, she did so softly, yet firmly.  "No one should be made to stand the pain of being consumed alive the way this disease is consuming her."

"Kenshin bore that pain," whispered the breeze wafting from Yahiko's direction, words nebulous even in the night's stillness, and Megumi wondered if the young man had actually murmured them.  Certainly, if he had, he couldn't have intended for her to hear.  But Megumi felt the words echo clammily in her heart, which suddenly felt both tight and hollow at the same time.

"It drove him mad," she whispered.

"If madness is forgetting..."

Several minutes passed in silence between them, dark and heavy with memory.  Presently Megumi let out a small weary sigh and rested her head against the shoji.  She was a doctor by training and by inclination, not a nurse; and all these months of continuous vigil over Kaoru, of nerves constantly frazzled by frustration and helplessness, were wearing on her.  The feeling of her beloved friend slipping irretrievably farther and farther from her grasp each day pained and tired her more than she was willing to admit.

Yahiko's voice suddenly marred the peaceful silence.   "You know of a better treatment than what you're giving her?"

Exhaustion edged Megumi's next words.  "Yahiko.  It's been more than fifteen years, but you can't tell me you've forgotten already."

Yahiko bowed his head at that, and Megumi felt regret curl inside her.  Perhaps she should not have brought up such a subject so bluntly.  "Doctors have been doing it for years.  I must say I've never done it, but I know how.  The recipe is modified, of course," she added soothingly.  "It will be easy to produce, and I'll watch the dosages like a hawk.  Only what she needs and no more."

"Will she become addicted?"

Megumi shook her head.  "To be honest, I don't think she has enough time left to risk that."

"You know I trust you, Megumi.  Your motivations, and your skills.  Everyone does.  And we're all just looking after Kaoru while... while we can."  Yahiko rose to his feet slowly, leaning on his sword.  Megumi also stood up, eyeing him solicitously.  She could barely make out his features in the darkness, but he sounded almost as bone-weary as she felt.  "But I hope you don't mind if we just sleep on this for tonight.  It's getting a bit late.  We should talk again in the morning."

"Hai.  Of course, Yahiko-kun."  She smiled wearily.  "I'll make one last check on Kaoru-chan before I go on to bed, then."

"Oyasumi nasai, Megumi.  Soshite--"

Megumi, who had already turned, stopped and inclined her head quizzically.

"--arigatou.  It can't be easy for you, the way things are.  And I'm sorry to impose on you."

"Yahiko."  Megumi was so tired she felt ready to collapse against the shoji, but she forced herself to remain coherent.  "I'm doing all I can, while I can, because I can and I want to.  It's what I was unable to do for Ken-san... and no matter how much regret consumes _me_, I won't let that knowledge go.  Now, with Kaoru-chan, I can only hope that I'll do justice to what everyone feels for her."

"You do, Megumi."

The young kenkaku bowed and left without another word.

That was peculiarly Yahiko, thought Megumi with some amusement, feeling affection warm her from the inside:  the bluntness that was pure honesty, embellished with neither flattery nor insult.  She shook her head, still smiling, and went on to Kaoru's room.  Warm yellow light from cast Tsubame's shadow across the room as she prepared Kaoru for the night.

Megumi stopped awhile in the darkness just outside the door, brooding on persistent memories.  For a moment she glanced up at the brightly speckled night as if searching for something.  Then she shook her head, drew a deep breath, and went in.  Yet another long day of nursing was nearing its end, and she had a few last duties to discharge.

~ tsuzuku ~

again, please be so kind as to give feedback! ^.^ arigatou for reading!!


	3. No Need for Tears

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Two:  No Need for Tears

Megumi leaned the broom against the post and sat down on the porch gratefully.  She'd been sweeping the yard for all of an hour--her predilection for neatness and precision had gotten the best of her--and as she sagged wearily against the post, the sight of the now impeccable yard filled her with satisfaction.  It was similar to what she felt after a successful, particularly difficult surgery.  She smiled at the thought.  Only similar.

"Megumi-sensei.  You seem tired.  Would you like some tea?"

She turned.  A twelve-year-old boy stood next to her, bowing respectfully, his small honest face flushed bright red.  Tatewaki Akira, supplied Megumi's memory banks helpfully--a student boarding at the dojo.  Several years ago Yahiko, Yutarou, and Kaoru had begun accepting poor children as students to help out and study at the dojo free of charge.  Akira was the son of a washerwoman, one of Yahiko's neighbors when, before marrying Tsubame, the kenkaku had stayed at Sanosuke's old longhouse.

And within moments of first meeting Megumi, Akira had developed an obvious crush on her.

Megumi smiled at him.  He was a nice boy and a good student altogether, though Yutarou complained that since Megumi arrived at the dojo Akira had lost much of his formerly excellent concentration.

"I would appreciate that, Akira, thank you."

Some time later, as Megumi leaned against the post, sipping her tea, admiring the beauty of a well-swept yard, and half listening to Akira practicing his perfect kata very loudly in the courtyard, she felt the afternoon was passing enjoyably enough.

At least I haven't lost all my charms yet, mused Megumi, hiding her smile in her cup.  Even if I am thirty-six.

Going on thirty-seven.  Her smile turned very slightly rueful.

She had long since dealt with the issue of being thirty and single.   Over the past fifteen years, she had worked her way from being just another resident at the Sanada clinic in Aizu to being one of its highest administrators, top consideration for eventually heading the clinic itself once the current owner and director retired.  Sanada Hiroshi's family had been friends and colleagues to the Takanis for generations, and unlike the many other doctors whom Megumi had approached, the wise old doctor had been quick to see past her gender to her ability.  Megumi had been so dedicated to her work that she had spared little time for personal affairs.  And though she had had no shortage of suitors, none of them had managed to spark any true feeling in her heart--not the way Kenshin had, and certainly not the way one other person had...

And so she had spent years ignoring the sympathetic looks and knowing glances of her colleagues' well-intentioned wives, coolly evading the attempts of sundry matchmakers to tear her away from a schedule she determinedly kept hectic.  At first it had been sheer pride that made her resent others' interference and speculation. But, eventually, Megumi had come to laugh at the silliness of it all.  As nice as it would be to wake up beside someone else every morning, love could be neither orchestrated nor forced.  Besides, serving people as a healer was fulfillment enough.

On the rare nights when sheer exhaustion from her work failed to send her to sleep, she'd lain awake contemplating dying alone, and the loneliness had been met with a wry sigh and a smile.

In much the same way she sighed and smiled wryly now, shaking her head slightly at her own train of thought.  High overhead, wispy clouds drifted across a clear sky.  Outside Kaoru's room, the chime rang out with the breeze.  Megumi picked up the cup--firmly shooing away Akira who was offering his assistance--and headed to the kitchen to wash up.  After those few minutes of idleness, it was time to go back to work.

In her room she could hear the rhythmic, practiced shouts from Yutarou's students in the training hall; she found the sounds both soothed and energized her as she rummaged among her things for a wide, shallow leatherbound box.  She laid it on the writing desk--the only one in the dojo; at her behest, Tae had lent one from the Akabeko--and, for a moment, simply stared at it, fingers drumming on the desktop.

Then, setting her mouth in a grim line, she lifted the lid.  The old leather--fifteen years old, to be precise--was cracked and lusterless in spots, and it crackled brittly as the box yawned open, revealing inside several black-bound notebooks and many sheaves of yellowed paper covered in her own and another's writing.

It took all of Megumi's control not to slam the box shut and hide it away among her belongings once again, ignore its existence for another fifteen years, perhaps.  Still, her fingers trembled as they tentatively touched the aged papers.  They bore notes from three years of concentrated work, results from experiments, quotes from various books and manuals ancient and modern, and recipes for several variations on a drug that could be used to heal and to kill.

She would have burned all of this a long time ago, perhaps, and scattered the ashes gladly, had not her training interfered.  This was still knowledge, however painfully earned.  And Megumi knew--she had not spent these months at the dojo in idleness--this was knowledge the medical community did not have and dared not obtain by itself.

So she steeled herself with a long, deep breath and a cleansing of the mind, firmly setting aside her emotions, slipping into intellect and expertise as she would slip into a surgical smock.  Out of a drawer came a sheaf of clean white paper and a pen.  She reached for the notebook on the top of the stack, opened to the first yellowed page, and began to read.

     *   *   *

The images that came to her were rough, jagged, soundless, yet her heart twisted within her with some emotion her senses could only vaguely justify.

Enishi, nerves bulging from his skin, charging with all the sinuous grace and finely harnessed violence of a tiger.

Kenshin meeting him head on, eyes blue-violet with determination.  Her own joy bursting from inside her as she realized those beautiful eyes were not and would never again be golden.  Him falling into her arms, she staggering under his weight, yet certain she would never let him touch the ground.

His whisper reaching not her ears but her spirit--"Call me Shinta," and then, "Sumanai"--and how he loved her, how she loved him back, demanding all that he could share with her, unwilling to be satisfied with less.

Waiting at the pier each day and watching ship after ship dock with its load of passengers, searching tirelessly through the crowds for flame-bright hair and a peaceful smile.  Scanning the papers anxiously for news of another nation's war.  Each night muffling her loneliness in her pillow, sometimes sensing--and sometimes not, for even at his young age he had learned to hide his presence well--her young son hovering outside her door.  Sinking gratefully into Kenji's sympathetic embrace and at the same time mourning the core of ice-edged steel that was already beginning to form in him.

And, finally, that day when she woke with something unfamiliar tempering the all-too-familiar pain--an unaccustomed sense of urgency, of need--and fought the heaviness in her limbs to hurry down the street... to meet a wanderer come home at last, never to leave again...

"Ken--shin..."

Yahiko looked up from his meditation at the broken whisper.  Kaoru slept on, her mouth halfway between a grimace and a sorrowful smile, her fingers twining together on the blanket.  A tear was creeping down her pale, sunken cheek.

Sighing, Yahiko moved closer and gently dabbed at the tear with a piece of hanagami.  He remembered belatedly that he had what Tsubame called a hankachii with him--apparently it was what Western gentlemen used instead of tissue paper--but then he'd never really gotten used to such things.  Tsubame chided him for putting obviously unused handkerchiefs in the laundry, but whenever she did, he would merely grin sheepishly and scratch his head, and say something to make her blush and forget whatever else she might have wanted to say.

Obligingly, thinking of Tsubame and how pretty she was whenever she reprimanded him for something, Yahiko pulled out his hankachii and swabbed at the sweat on Kaoru's forehead.  At least the handkerchief would be used when he put it in the laundry this time.  When it came away, Kaoru's blue eyes were open and staring at him gravely.

He jumped.  "Anou..."  Now that's scary, he thought, tucking the hankachii away.

"Yahiko?"

"Kaoru," he said.  He grinned sheepishly.

"How long have I been asleep?  I'm completely out of touch."  Her chuckle came out in a soft rasp.  "Kenji-chan?"

"Still in Kyoto with Hiko.  Learning the ougi already, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Aa.  That will be good for him, I think."  Kaoru's eyelids slid shut as though it took too much effort to hold them up.  "Megumi-san?"

"Working in her room."

"It should be time for Yutarou-kun's class about now, ne?"

Yahiko smiled.  It was just like Kaoru to be checking up on everything and everyone the moment she awoke.  "You're right.  He'll be done soon, though, since the sun's about to set."

"Tsubame-chan is at the Akabeko as always?  Tae-san?"

"Fine as ever.  Souichiro-chan came home with a girl last night, so she's torn between acting like a mother hen and being the matchmaker she's always been."  Yahiko grinned, remembering his own childish awkwardness with Tsubame at the tender age of ten.  "It doesn't make things any easier that the girl was a good friend of Miyako-chan's."  Miyako, the twelve-year-old Sekihara daughter, had been mortified at the thought of one of her girl friends with her otouto.

Kaoru chuckled again.  "So much that I've been missing.  I miss the Sekiharas.  We should invite them to dinner sometime, catch up."

Yahiko hesitated.  The ease with which Kaoru had spoken unsettled him.  "I don't know," he said carefully, "they seem awfully busy, and Tae-san has plans for renovating the Akabeko again.  But I'll see what I can do."

Kaoru didn't seem to notice his uneasiness, merely nodded.  "And Outa-kun?  Has he left for Yokohama already?"

Higashidani Outa had left on a trip to the seaport city almost a month ago to obtain some imported goods he had ordered, and each time Kaoru had woken from her stupor the past few weeks, she had asked the same question.  The repeated query would have pained Yahiko as it usually did, but this time the young kenkaku was eager to respond with new information.

"We got a letter just yesterday. He's on his way back, should be here in a week."  Yahiko let pass the almost fatherly tone of pride in his voice.  Outa at twenty-one was so unlike his older brother with his gentle, meek ways--and yet so like Sanosuke in his unwillingness to tolerate oppression of the weak--that, in the twelve years he had been training at the dojo, he had endeared himself to Yahiko as more than just a student.  "The trip is going fine, he's having a lot of fun.  The idiot didn't mention anything about the trouble he ran into in the city, but then he probably doesn't know I'm keeping tabs on him through Misao."

Yahiko frowned.  Outa was also like his brother in the impulsivity with which he reacted whenever he saw wrongdoing.  What the Oniwabanshuu had learned and Outa had not written of was that he had been involved in the police bust of a smuggling ring in the city.  Yahiko privately suspected Outa's rashness was in some part due to his confidence in his skills.  After all, Yahiko thought smugly, the Master of the Thousand Shirabadori himself had taught him.

"And how are you feeling?" he asked quickly, before Kaoru could go on asking about other people.

"Daijoubu," replied Kaoru as she always did, with a smile she tried to make sunny.  "I know Megumi's doing her best."

Yahiko suspected, not for the first time, that she'd become infected with more than just Kenshin's disease--perhaps his tendency to cheerfully lie and evade questions so as to prevent others worrying, as well.  Or his ability to sense other's thoughts, he thought uneasily as Kaoru's big blue eyes focused on him again.  Despite the lingering effects of Megumi's medicine, they were remarkably clear and intent.  He braced himself for some remark that would cut right to the heart of his suspicions.

"Could you please open the shoji?"  Though her mouth did not smile, her eyes did.  "I'd like to see outside."

After a startled moment Yahiko complied, and as he moved back to sit again by her bed he watched her carefully, probing with his kenkaku's awareness.   Kaoru's eyes were shut again; she was very weak, her ki fractured with the pain and the drugs, but it was nonetheless pure and calm.  Yahiko was, as always, both comforted and awed by the strength of his shihandai.  He decided that a full frontal attack would be the only way to do justice to it.

"Megumi _is_ doing her best.  But she doesn't think that you've... that you've got too much time left."

He had stumbled there, and he cursed the emotion that had caught him off guard and choked him.   But Kaoru's solemn expression did not change; the almost-smile curving her mouth did not waver.

"It's not her fault.  I know.  I accept that.  I accepted that from the beginning."

Yahiko sighed, running a hand through his hopelessly rumpled hair.  "I don't know if Megumi-_sensei_ can accept that."

"It's hard for her to stop being the doctor she's been for so long.  She forgets sometimes that she's only human, just like the rest of us, and that there are many things we still can't control--"  Kaoru ended abruptly, gasping for air.

Yahiko stared hard at her, trying to gauge her remaining physical energy.  She was clearly struggling to simply stay awake and keep up the conversation, but there was something he needed to ask.

"Megumi does remember that, though, sometimes.  That's why she asked me, the other night... we decided to settle it with you first of all..."  Yahiko trailed off, watching Kaoru's face expectantly, all too ready to just let her sleep if that was what she preferred.

But her brow furrowed, and slowly her eyes opened again, the blue leaden with shadow.  "Nani?"

"If the pain gets too much--you don't have to suffer, Kaoru."  There, he'd said it.  Yahiko sighed.  "Megumi can do it, and she will if you consent."

Kaoru was silent for several moments, and Yahiko glanced back at her, wondering if she'd fallen back asleep.  But her eyes were open if distant, and from the way her fingers twitched restlessly in the blankets, the pain was returning.

"Would I have more time?"

"Not really," came a cool voice.  Megumi entered by the open shoji with a tray of tea and knelt down beside Yahiko, who quietly helped himself.  "But you wouldn't feel the pain, Kaoru-chan."

"I'd sleep more."  Kaoru's tone was flat.

Megumi hesitated.  "Yes.  I still have to find a way to numb you without rendering you unconscious, so, for now at least, yes."

Kaoru fell silent; her eyes closed again.  Megumi and Yahiko exchanged uncertain glances over their cups.

"Not until Kenji-chan comes home," Kaoru whispered at last, firmly.

Megumi raised her eyebrows, but nodded.  "Wakatte.  And how are you feeling, Kaoru-chan?  Should I get you something to eat?"

"Mm.  Onegai.  I feel stronger than I've felt in a while."  Kaoru smiled faintly.

Megumi excused herself and left to prepare food, as Yahiko made sure Kaoru was comfortable.  She made him arrange the bed so that she could see out to the honey-colored sunset.  Yahiko settled himself beside her bed, and both watched in silence for a while.

"I'll send for Kenji then," he said presently.

"He should be coming back anyway," Kaoru murmured.  "Shinta will want to see him when he gets home."

Yahiko glanced at her sharply.  But she had fallen asleep, hand fisted next to her cheek, her hair in tendrils glistening in the amber sunlight.

     *   *   *

Kaoru did not wake again that day.  Or the next.  Megumi could not keep the anxiety out of her voice as she told Yahiko and Tsubame over the third evening's dinner that this was not unexpected, that Kaoru could slip away at any moment, that it was the most peaceful end they could want for her.  To avoid starvation Megumi ordered special equipment from a hospital, and with Yutarou's help she assembled it for an intravenous infusion of vital nutrition.  Had the situation been less grave, Yutarou would have been more openly enthusiastic in his admiration for modern medical technology.

Kenji arrived from Kyoto by morning of the fourth day.  He went straight to his mother's bedside and refused to leave.  No one asked as to the progress he had made under Hiko Seijuurou, but Yahiko, watching the boy closely whenever he could, sensed a new resoluteness, a certainty with which he grasped his sakabatou, that had not been there before.

That evening, Kaoru began to writhe in pain even in her sleep.  Roused from his silent vigil in a corner of the room, Kenji called on Megumi.

The night air was frosty with oncoming winter.  Megumi hurried into Kaoru's room, wrapping a haori around herself.  The examination was brief; Megumi soon hastened to the kitchen with orders for Kenji to make sure the syringe for the intravenous was not broken or dislodged.

Though emotions and memories stirred uneasily in her heart, Megumi's mind was clear, her hands steady, her movements precise as she prepared the drug.  For this, she told herself grimly, she had to thank three years of making it under considerable psychological and physical stress.

Before the hour was up, she had administered the treatment.  Soon Kaoru's creased face smoothened, her muscles relaxed, her breathing grew quiet.  Kenji was almost as pale as his mother, but he thanked Megumi profusely.  She tried to accept his gratitude graciously and, after replacing the empty bag of intravenous, left him to continue his vigil over his ailing mother.

She gathered her things and rearranged them neatly, carrying the various vessels out to the well to wash them.  The dojo was still and silent under the bright moonlight.  Carefully, Megumi washed out her instruments in water so chill her fingers soon grew numb.

When everything was once again in place, she wandered out to the porch.  Kenji had roused her from a sound sleep, but now, though exhausted, she was wide awake.  She sat down and leaned wearily against a post, her idle gaze drawn to the rhythmic movements of the bamboo pump in the courtyard.

The dose was very weak; Kaoru would probably need more before the night was through.  But she had been filled with a fear so enormous it had almost interfered with her duty before she'd managed to shut it out, and now that the urgency was over, the fear rushed back upon her, almost choking her in its ferocity.

Because it was Kaoru this time, Kaoru with the sharp tongue and bright eyes, who could be counted on to greet Megumi with the same cheerful smile as if mere days and not whole years had passed since their last meeting.  Because Megumi could not let her down, could not let Yahiko, Yutarou, Kenji and the rest of their patchwork family down.  Because it was Kenshin who, in her mind's eye, stood behind the doctor and strengthened her with his gentle, knowing smile, making Megumi yearn to trust her own abilities as he always had.

Because in the process of making the medicine Megumi had smelled again that distinctive sickly-sweet odor of a lifetime long past, and the undesired memories now left her slender hands fisted and trembling.  Closing her eyes against the tears only made the images more vivid.

The doctor who had begun it all, lying in a pool of his own blood.  Cowering under the leer of Takeda Kanryuu.  Innumerable faceless thugs laughing as she fought to keep her dignity as a captive.  The fearsome fanged visage of Hannya, keeping eerie watch over her; Beshimi's wide grin, Hyottoko's imposing bulk, the scars that Shikijou had never been too shy to show.  Aoshi's impassive eyes that drove home to her all the worse just how alone she was in the world, and night upon night upon night of voiceless, terrified misery, a will to live attacked and taunted by everything around her.

Dimly Megumi realized she was crying, curled up in a tight ball against the post in the frigid night.  She cursed in rage through her grief.  Would she ever be free of these memories?  Were fifteen years not enough to forget?

Then upon her bent shoulder there was a hand, solid, warm, and heavy; when she looked up into keen brown eyes she could only be glad of the happier turn her memories had taken.  Weeping silently, she had already collapsed into his strong arms by the time she realized she was at the night-steeped dojo, not imprisoned in a high and lonely mansion tower; and his hand upon her hair was not bleeding from a knifeblade he had wrested from her.

~ tsuzuku ~

**A/N.**   Heartfelt apologies for this revision.  It was only when I was finally (as I ought to have done at the outset) totted up the numbers did I realize that Myoujin Shin-ya wandering Japan was well nigh impossible.  After all, Yahiko and Tsubame are still obviously unmarried in "Haru ni Sakura", and this story is set ten years after that.  So if the two lovebirds get hitched when Yahiko's eighteen (I think the most plausible age for him, ne?), Shin-ya can't be older than seven.  Eek!  So anyway, this is the revised chapter...  yeah, I was shocked to realize just how old Outa already is, too.  They grow up so quickly, don't they? T.T

In revising this chapter I also took the opportunity to change the formatting.  So much better now, ne? ^.^


	4. Things that Must Be Said

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Glossary:

anou = um, er...

arigatou = "thank you", very plain form (as opposed to formal/polite form)

-chan = suffix for children and among (usually female) friends

che = Sanoistic cuss word ^.^

daijoubu = it's all right.

gaijin = foreigner

iya = "no" plain form

kata = among many other meanings, the standard practice forms of kenjutsu

Ken-san = Megumi's nickname for Kenshin ^.^

Kitsune = fox. one of Megumi's nicknames

-kun = suffix commonly for male friends or colleagues

kuso = another cuss Sanoism ^.^

maa = it's okay, calm down...

Megistune = see "Kitsune"

nani = what?

ne = all-purpose tag question/statement: "isn't it?" "right?" "don't you think?"

ohagi = chewy rice balls covered with sweet bean jam

oi, oei = "hey"

onegai = please

ora = interjection for when annoyed/offended; also what Megumi says when she pounds Sano ^.^

oyasumi nasai = good night

-san = suffix for "Miss", "Mrs.", or "Mr."

-sensei = suffix for a teacher or doctor

shoji = a sliding panel with a wooden frame and paper panes that may be kept open or shut

soshite = and, furthermore, moreover

sumanai, sumanu = I'm sorry.

toriatama = literally, "rooster head"; one of Sano's nicknames

Toriatama no baka = Stupid/silly roosterhead...

tsuzuku = to be continued

wakatte = I understand.

Three:  Things that Must Be Said

Long arms and legs spread out luxuriously, Sagara Sanosuke lay on the floor of the dining hall, his head pillowed on his cloak, his eyelids half lowered.  Absent-mindedly rubbing the stubble on his chin, he gazed around him at the changes modernity and prosperity had made to the room:  new scrolls and paintings, fat new sitting cushions, and a few unfamiliar pieces of furniture that gleamed in the light of what was Yahiko's pride and joy—a small chandelier fitted with half a dozen real lightbulbs.  Intrigued despite himself by this showcase of imported technology, Sano whiled away several minutes flicking the switch on and off, inspecting with fascination the tiny prisms in the crystal pieces.

He was still playing with the switch when Megumi came in bearing a steaming pot of tea and some cold ohagi. 

 "You'd best leave that alone." Her eyes shone with amusement as he flashed a sheepish grin and sat down across from her.  "Kaoru-chan keeps worrying the dojo will catch fire any minute."

 "I didn't know Jou-chan went in for fancy gaijin things like that," said Sanosuke before engulfing a whole piece of ohagi with his mouth.

"Yutarou-kun brought it from Germany a few years ago."  Megumi tried to conceal her pleasure as she watched him close his eyes and start to slowly chew.

 "Kami-sama."  His eyelids fluttered in bliss.  "Real ohagi."  He had hardly lost the bulge in his cheeks before he stuffed another piece into his mouth.  "Kuso, I've missed these.  Nothin' like 'em in the world."

 "Looks like the toriatama hasn't changed one bit, at any rate."  Privately battling amusement, pride, and irritation all at once, Megumi poured two cups of tea.  "Still all the table manners of a dog.  You do look like a wet dog, by the way, with that awful hair.  And that beard!"  She frowned, sipping her tea.  "I take it you didn't wander into any _civilized_ areas.  Or did they just throw you back out into the wilderness?"

 "Ora, ora!  Maa, Kitsune, I missed you too.  You don't have to pretend."  Sano smirked at her, white teeth oddly contrasting with the black hair sprouting unevenly upon his chin.

Megumi glared at his shaggy mop of hair, itching to yank it out by the roots.  "Why you pompous..."

 "That's more like it."  Sanosuke's mouth was stretched around another piece of ohagi, but he still found room for another grin.  "That's the Megitsune I remember."

Megumi started to snap something, then unceremoniously shut her mouth as she felt tears ominously pricking at her eyes for the umpteenth time that day.  Half irritated at the warmth she felt suddenly blooming in her, she looked away with a well-practised sniff.

 "I'm amazed you still remember anything," she said scornfully when her voice was back under control, "after travelling the world with barely a word to those you left behind."

She had hardly planned such frankness.  This time it was he who took a moment to respond, and Megumi glanced at him warily.  He was munching his ohagi with an unusual amount of concentration, eyes downcast, mouth twisted in half of a smile.  Admiration for the thick black lashes dusting his cheeks popped into her mind and was just as quickly shoved out of it.

"Sumanu," he said at last, laughter in his voice.  He reached for the last piece of ohagi slowly, as though lost in thought—or maybe his seemingly cavernous stomach was finally nearing full capacity, thought Megumi dryly.  "You're right, I did kinda forget to keep in touch."

Megumi let go of a breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding.  She'd half expected him to explode.  "For fifteen years," she said archly over her teacup, savoring the carefully tempered indignation simmering within her.  This was, after all, her moment of catharsis.

 "Aww, Megitsune.  I didn't know you cared."  His tone was teasing again and the flirtatious twinkle was back in his brown eyes as he looked up at her.  Megumi felt her cheeks heat and she returned his wicked stare with a lethal one.  She felt her face flame even more when he let out a quiet chuckle and returned to his food.  How _dare_ he act so... so _knowing!_  This was _her_ moment of truth, after all—time to settle grievances nursed for a decade and a half.  He wasn't supposed to be _laughing_ at her!

 "Toriatama no baka," she ground out through gritted teeth.  "_I'm_ just glad you decided to come back when you did, finally.  I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about"—she hesitated, hating herself for losing momentum—"well, everything!" she finished in exasperation.

 "Ho, that's harsh, Kitsune."  Sanosuke, having inhaled all there had been on the tray, lay back with an injured expression.  Megumi wished he wouldn't do the puppy-dog look on her; he pulled it off too well.  "Of course I didn't forget.  I'm just glad your message found me when it did."

They had been preparing Kenshin for burial when they found Sanosuke's note tucked into a pocket, bearing instructions on how to reach him by way of a friend in Peking.  Megumi had held off writing him until Kaoru's condition had clearly and irreparably worsened.  That had been nearly a month ago, but still Megumi remembered the indecision that had nearly paralyzed her when she'd taken up pen and paper, the despair she'd fought to keep off as she wrote—despair that the message would never reach him in time, that he would be held back by whatever concerns he'd acquired over the last fifteen years, that he would simply not care.

"Well, you certainly took your time coming back," she muttered, drinking the last of her tea.

"Hey, you caught me out in the middle of the freakin' steppes.  I had a lot of ground to cover."

Megumi sighed, wrapping her chilled fingers more snugly around the still-hot ceramic cup.  "I thought... you'd want to say goodbye to Kaoru-chan.  At the very least."

They both fell silent, Sano taking up his own teacup even as Megumi set down hers.  As he sipped quietly, staring into the swirling brown liquid, Megumi eyed him from behind long bangs.  There was a question she wanted badly to ask, but she was unsure as to whether to ask it.

Fifteen years had made him leaner yet more muscled than ever, as his Chinese-style crimson jacket gaped open to reveal.  Deep-set in a lean, tanned face, his brown eyes still had that intensely focused look about them, but the intensity was tempered by what Megumi recognized as age—age and the experience it brought.  It seemed his travels had done him this perceptible good.  She wondered if he would ever tell them the stories of his adventures, and whether he would ever be finished telling them all.

He finished his tea with a last, satisfied gulp and got up to open the shoji.  As cold air rushed into the room, he leaned against the shoji frame and stared out at the stillness of the night.  Gathering her haori more closely about her, Megumi ran her gaze thoughtfully over the long, lanky figure he cut against the moonlight.  Different clothes, an amplified physique, and an unfamiliar air about him that seemed at once quietly commanding and extremely, proudly lonely—this man felt like a stranger to her, and it saddened her more than she could understand why.

Suddenly he turned, caught her eye, and winked.  As she sat there blinking with surprise he drew the shoji together, leaving a scant inch for the wind to whistle through, and sat back down across from her.

"Admit it, Kitsune, you dig the rugged look."  His grin was sly.  "All the chicks did."

Megumi ignored the sudden sinking of her heart—_"chicks"?_—and reined in her temper with an ease born of practice dealing with spiky-haired boneheads.  Apparently old skills, even if they had lain unused for years, were easily revived. 

"I'm sure they did, Toriatama... until they got close enough to smell the body odor and horse dung."

"Oi—!  Low blow!"  Surreptitiously Sanosuke sniffed at himself as she muffled her peal of laughter in her sleeve.  He glowered at her while a pair of well known fox ears mischievously twitched his way.  "That's a _manly_ smell!  How much would *you* know of manly smells, eh, Kitsune?"

It hit harder than she'd expected.  Suddenly the playful spirit drained from her, and Megumi just felt tired.  "Not much, I suppose, now that you ask, Toriatama."  A smile tugged at her mouth, but she hadn't the energy left for it.  "And that's enough horsing around.  It's getting late; unlike a certain bonehead, some of us have work in the morning."  The insult was halfhearted.  She gathered the cups onto the tray.

"Che."  The tone was mingled disappointment and guilt; Sano had apparently noticed his blunder.  "Kitsune, I didn't mean..."

"Daijoubu.  You don't know any of what's happened in the last fifteen years, after all."  Megumi regretted the note of bitterness she let slip into her voice.  After what had been a very long day, it seemed, she was beginning to lose control.

"Iya.  I guess I don't."

He sounded unexpectedly subdued.  As she neatly placed the cups, pot, and plate on the tray she waited for an impatient demand to learn exactly what he didn't know.  But he said nothing, merely stood up to push aside the shoji again and meet the cool night air.

Eyebrow raised, she glanced up at him.  He had his hands in the pockets of his long black pants and his bearded chin upturned to the bright moon.  She wondered if, only days or perhaps even just hours on soil he had once called home, he already missed being out in the wide world.

"Whatcha lookin' at, Kitsune?"

She smiled and set down the tray.  "You really will have to tell us someday about everything you've done, toriatama, everywhere you've been."  The question she had put aside a while ago resurfaced in her mind, and after another moment's tense deliberation within herself she decided at last to ask it.

"Why didn't you come with Ken-san?"

And once the words had left her lips she realized the longing that suffused that simple question, the plaintive tone she hastened to gloss over by adding, "I mean, he could have gotten lost, or hurt.  Do you know he came all the way to Tokyo from Yokohama?  As ill as he was?"

She heard the anger rising in her voice, and apparently, Sanosuke did as well.  He looked down at his feet.  "Aa, that was stupid of me."  His voice, already low, grew lower till it was near inaudible.  "I was weak."

Megumi waited expectantly, but as seconds ticked by without another word from him, she realized, disappointed, that that was all he had to say.

"Onegai.  Explain it to me," she asked quietly.  The anger was gone; it was a moot point, she was too tired, and seeing him at last was too unexpected and happy a surprise.  "You and Ken-san were friends.  You understood him better than any of us, almost better than Kaoru-chan.  He said, once, long ago, that he was the one he trusted the most.  Why did you let him go home alone and sick as he was?"

"'Cause."  Sanosuke closed his eyes, frowning.  "'Cause as much as I knew it was my responsibility, it was hard enough taking care of him after I found him.  We spent about two weeks gettin' down to the sea from the mountains... and you have no idea, Kitsune, no idea at all, how hard it was for me to see him the way he was."

Megumi nodded silently, her gaze on her hands twisted together in her lap.  Yes, she had no idea, because she had been in Aizu all that time, and neither Kaoru nor Yahiko had mentioned anything in their letters about the sickness:  Kaoru because she had not wished to distress their friend with an illness that was incurable, Yahiko because, until the very last minute, Kenshin had hidden it and Kaoru had not told him—the young kenkaku had simply not known.

And as much as she bitterly regretted to admit it, Megumi too had forgotten all about Kenshin's increasing debilitation.  After leaving Tokyo and busying herself with her new life in Aizu, she had heard nothing about Kenshin's condition; and thus she had allowed herself the indulgence of denial.  After all, Kenshin had left to travel and fight abroad.  He would have had enough consideration for himself and his family to stay home if he'd felt he was unfit, wouldn't he?

Apparently not.  Twenty-five years after the Bakumatsu, Kenshin had been as determined as ever to protect others' happiness even if he had to throw his own life away.  And despite Kenshin's brush with Rakuninmura, Megumi had misjudged his life's goal one more time.  She had paid for it with bottomless regret when she had rushed back to Tokyo for her dear friend's funeral and his widow's slowly nearing end.

"He was damn sick when I found him."  Sanosuke's voice was hoarse.  "Near blind, could hardly tell I was there.  Too weak to move much.  He might've died of hunger if I hadn't gotten there.  He couldn't sleep much either, 'cause his whole body was just about ripped apart by the pain."  Megumi, watching him, could see the tension in the set of his shoulders and arms.  "He was half delirious, most of the time; just kept mumbling Jou-chan's name.  The whole time I was with him till I saw him off at the docks, that was about all I ever heard him say."

Megumi covered her face with her hands.  She was exhausted beyond tears, and her eyes burned beneath their lids.  But something inside her bled at the image Sano was describing—an image heartbreakingly different from the strong, serenely smiling man she remembered.  In a dark, secret place she kept squirreled away in her soul, she was glad she hadn't seen Kenshin dying.

Not the way Sano had.

"I couldn't go with him," he said quietly.  "I knew he might get in trouble goin' home, but at the same time I knew he wouldn't, so I let that be my excuse.  I couldn't...  I just couldn't face—"  His voice broke, and he abruptly fell silent for several moments.  Finally he mumbled, "Sorry."

Megumi merely nodded.  She looked up at him, but he still had his back to her, his head bowed.  Then she stood up and wrapped her arms around him from behind.  She felt him tense even more, the muscles across his back going rigid against her cheek before relaxing again a moment later.  She felt rough fingertips brush the skin of her arm tentatively, raising tiny hairs in their wake, then his warm, strong hand wrapped itself around her wrist.

"It doesn't matter now," she whispered, half to herself.  And somehow, she found it within her to smile.  "Okaeri, toriatama."

~ tsuzuku ~

add'l glossary: okaeri = casually short for "okaeri nasai," or "welcome home"

**A/N.**  Many thanks and apologies are in order...

This unworthy writer is very, very sorry she forgot to include a glossary of Japanese terms, that she is.  So the one at the top of this chapter will serve for the previous chapters and this one.  Glossaries will be tacked on to the rest of the chapters de gozaru.  FYI, the English title of this story would read "In the Darkness Before the Dawn."  (I do hope I got the Japanese right.)

And certainly a very hearty _thaaaank youuuuu!!!_ (hearts) to all the nice people who took time to read and review, not just this but my other stories (plug plug plug!).  eriesalia, babeekoko, Mistress Battousai...  Words cannot do justice to my gratitude, so I'll just do my best to be worthy of your praise, that I will. ^.^

By the way, eriesalia-dono, I also didn't enjoy Seisouhen that much... too darn depressing.  Kenshin!!  Wahhh!!! T.T  But well... it's kind of gotten engraved already in my RK mindset, so I guess what I'm desperately fixating on now, to try to cheer myself up, is some sort of pleasant closure to all that gloom and doom.  Let's all hope I succeed, ne? Ne?? ^.^

Incidentally, as I struggle to think up a plausible resolution to this story that sometimes really does seem to write itself, the possibility of an Aoshi-Megumi story dangles before me.  I've already scribbled halfway through a tentative Fire/Ice fic... but Aoshi's kind of a difficult character for me to quite grasp, and I don't know—something in me just doesn't like the idea of Sano getting Misao...  Nothing against either of them, but it just doesn't seem _right_ somehow.  Anyone care to support me... or persuade me otherwise? ^.^


	5. Interlude

A/N:  So sorry it took me so very long to update.  School has been absolutely wild the last few weeks before Christmas break.  Plus I kept finding holes in Chapter Three, so...rewrite, rewrite, rewrite.  I hope these chapters please, then. ^.^ Arigatou! And happy Christmas to all! ^.^

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Four:  Interlude

Megumi awoke with a start.  From the brightness and angle of the sunlight, it was hours past her accustomed waking time.  She rarely overslept, and she mentally shook a finger at herself as she got up and began to roll her futon.  _I must really be getting old_, she sighed to herself as she put it away in the cabinet.

The noise of Yahiko's morning class echoed from the training hall as she made her way to the kitchen, eager for breakfast.  She stopped dead in the doorway, astonished to see Sanosuke inside, his back to the door as he stoked the fire.  A large pan was topped by a round bamboo contraption unfamiliar to Megumi; through the woven lid steam rose in silvery curls.  Megumi blinked.  Sanosuke in a kitchen was shock enough, but actually cooking...?

"Ohayou, kitsune," he said over his shoulder to where she stood still in the doorway, grappling with her amazement.  "I ate everything the little girl made, so you'll have to suffer my kinda grub instead."

Megumi blinked several times before she realized he was referring to Tsubame.  She shook her head and laughed, more at herself than at him.  "I gather the rooster's learned some new tricks."

 "Oei, don't knock it.  Yahiko didn't complain, and you know how that kid can whine."  An enormous sneeze echoed from the training hall, startling Megumi and momentarily silencing the usual noise of the students.  Sanosuke laughed out loud as he lifted the lid to peek inside.

When Megumi came up to have a peek herself, he quickly dropped the lid, smiling at her teasingly.  "Nope, an artist never lets anybody see his work till it's finished."

 "And since when have you been an artist?  Besides, I'm terribly hungry.  If that takes too long, I don't care about exotic dishes, I'm fixing something myself."  But her tone was light and she sat down on a covered barrel to watch him work.

 "This is almost done.  It's not usually eaten with rice, but I made some anyway in case it's too weird for ya."

Megumi found her eyebrows rising, almost of their own accord, at the unconscious tone of authority in his voice.  She stood and began setting out bowls and plates on trays.  Behind her, Sano made little exclamations of satisfaction, half to himself, as he uncovered whatever it was he had prepared and began to arrange them with a pair of hashi on a dish.  Smiling with amusement, Megumi carried the trays to the dining hall.

The dumplings were plump and succulent, and Megumi found herself daintily devouring one after the other, begrudging Sano the two or three he ate.  He rattled off several Chinese names for them as she listened attentively, saving up the information to find out more about these delectable morsels later.  She tasted crab and egg in one, pork and mushrooms in another, and wondered what the world had done to turn the lazy, swaggering, mooching ex-gangster into a cook almost of Kenshin's caliber.

 "Where on earth did you get all these ingredients?  Please don't tell me you've been to the market."  That, she felt, would be _too _impossible a miracle.

He shook his head.  "Bought 'em off Tae when I went to pick up some of my stuff from the Akabeko.  She damn near fainted when I paid my tab."

Megumi choked on a piece of shrimp.  For several moments she coughed and wheezed, until the offending piece of food finally went down properly and she could stare at him full force.  "You paid," Megumi spluttered, "your tab?"

 "Yeah, that's what she said."  Sanosuke was frowning as though personally insulted.  "'You're paying (wheeze, cough) your tab?'  Then that daughter o' hers had to catch her.  Boy, she's kinda scrawny comin' from a babe like her mom."

Megumi decided to chew instead of laugh, not daring to risk another inelegant episode of respiratory confusion.

 "Saw Yahiko teachin' his class.  He probably doesn't realize it, but he acts a lot like Jou-chan when he's around his students.  'Cept even he doesn't whack 'em on the head that much."

Megumi smiled, but the mention of Kaoru was sobering, and it reminded her of the work she had yet to do for the day.  The dimsum plate sat empty before her, and before Megumi could react, Sanosuke had picked it up.

 "You're cleaning up?" she said before she could think.  As she gaped at him, Sano was indeed gathering up the plates and bowls she had just cleaned out.

 "Got some stuff o' my own I gotta take care of.  So I might as well wash these up too."  He spoke lazily as ever, but there seemed to be a flush of color across his tanned face.  Megumi decided to hold her tongue as he disappeared into the kitchen with the trays and dishes.  Some miracles were best appreciated in silence.

She went to examine Kaoru, who had slept without incident since the previous night.  The shoji stood wide open; Kenji was practicing outside, but Megumi could see him constantly glancing into the room, still keeping an eye on his mother.

She checked Kaoru's vital signs and went to the kitchen to prepare the next dosage of morphine as scheduled.  As Kaoru's tolerance to the drug increased, the dosages would over time need to be larger and more frequent—but for now, Megumi pushed that knowledge to the back of her mind as she carefully filled the syringe with the same weak dosage she had administered the night before.

She returned to Kaoru's room to find Sanosuke crouched silently beside the younger woman's bed.  He lifted dark, haunted eyes to Megumi as she walked in.

 "Is she gonna wake up any time soon?"  It was almost a whisper.

Megumi sighed, turning back to her syringe.  "I really can't tell.  That's up to her now.  She's been sleeping like that since last night.  It's entirely possible that she won't wake up again before—"

She caught herself, shook her head to dislodge the thought.  Sano said nothing as she moved up to the bed.

 "What's that?" he asked quietly, catching sight of the needle in her hand.

 "Something for the pain."  Megumi swabbed alcohol on the soft pale skin of Kaoru's arm.

Sano winced and looked away as the needle found its target.  "Is that what's makin' her sleep?"

 "This and the exhaustion of her body as it tries to fight off the disease, hai."

Her voice was measured, wary.  Megumi checked a sigh.  The Sanosuke of old would have been too wary of drugs to keep silent; he would have demanded angrily as to Kaoru's permission, the effects of the drug on her, the deadened state in which she was kept alive.  And so Megumi tensed, awaiting the outburst.

But all he said was, "How long you think she's got left?"

Megumi glanced at him in surprise, but his face was hidden in the fall of his unruly hair.  "As I told Yahiko... maybe a month."

He said no more, merely settled into his customary semi-sprawled sitting position with one leg stretched out and the other tucked underneath him, staring gravely at Kaoru.  Megumi quietly busied herself gathering up her instruments and packing them away in her kit.  Sanosuke did not move as she slipped out of the room.

Megumi was heading for the kitchen when Kenji's low, polite voice called her to a halt.

 "Takani-sensei."  Kenji bowed gracefully as she turned toward him.  "Please forgive my rudeness, but may I ask about that man who has just arrived?"

Megumi smiled.  "He is Sagara Sanosuke, a very good friend of your mother's and father's.  He's been out of the country since before you were born, so it's no wonder you don't know him."

 "Is he the one who sent Otousan home?"  Kenji's wide blue-violet eyes were far away.

 "Hai.  Sumanu, I'll introduce you two immediately—"  But Megumi, who had quickly made to go back to Kaoru's room, was stopped by Kenji's hand on her arm.

 "Iie.  That won't be necessary.  Thank you very much for your trouble."  Kenji gave her a smile that did not quite reach his eyes, and Megumi felt a wave of sadness suddenly come over her.  She offered her best fake smile in return and went on her way to her room.

Kenji had joined Yahiko in welcoming her to the dojo five months ago, and she had constantly been around him as they'd arranged Kenshin's funeral and in the weeks before he'd left for Kyoto.  Nevertheless, every encounter with him left something inexplicable gnawing at her spirit.  Something about that boy disturbed her, he who otherwise resembled his parents so much.

Still, he obviously loved his mother, and for that alone Megumi was prepared to grant him the space he seemed to demand of everyone he met.  As she walked on toward the studying she had yet to finish, she heard him resume his kata behind her, and wondered if Kaoru could hear.

~ tsuzuku ~

glossary:

hai = yes

ohayou = good morning!


	6. Nisei

**A/N.**  Traditionally, when someone dies in Japan, it's part of the funeral customs for the (usually Buddhist) priest to give him a "death name," different from his name in life, to be inscribed on the ihai or memorial tablet.  The ihai is placed on the death shrine inside the person's family's house.  (I hope I got those traditions right, that I do.  Kindly correct me if I'm mistaken. ^.^)

glossary:

'hisashiburi = casually short for "o-hisashiburi," something like "Long time no see."

aa = yeah...

baka deshi = "stupid student"; Hiko's name for Kenshin

 -basan = suffix for an aunt

chikushou = "damn."  Another Sano swear word ^.^

eeto = like "anou": um, er...

engawa = the porch area looking out on the yard

hitokiri = assassin, literally "man killer"

ihai = memorial tablet, usually wood, for a deceased person

iie = no

Jou-chan = Sano's name for Kaoru

Okaasan = mother

oneesan = older sister

Otousan = father

otouto = younger brother

sagegami = ponytail

sakabatou = Kenshin's reversed-edge sword

sake = Japanese liquor made from fermented rice

saya = sword sheath

shinai = bamboo sword for training in kendo

Shishi = the Ishin Shishi, who led the movement to restore the Meiji emperor to real power and thus end the Tokugawa regime

shishou = master, teacher

sumimasen = "I'm sorry", formal

sutra = Buddhist prayer/text chanted during religious ceremonies

yukata = light cotton kimono, usually with no or little design, for the house and bathroom

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Five:  Nisei

Fifteen years away from his friends with no more than a single letter between them left much to be done now that he was back.  His luggage awaited unpacking at the Akabeko; in his bags and trunks, gifts outnumbered his own belongings.  He'd heard Tsukioka Katsuhiro was still in Tokyo, still living a modest life despite the success of his underground newspaper.  His old buddies—now many years married with children underfoot—had invited him for a drink and a long chat.  And damn, he had to admit that he missed good old Japanese sake.

But for all that, Sanosuke remained standing in the hall of the dojo, feet rooted to the floor.  Try as he might to tear his gaze away, it was riveted to the shrine before him bathed in the afternoon sunlight from the courtyard.

The shrine to Himura Kenshin.

 "'Hisashiburi," Sano muttered.  He shuffled his feet and thrust his hands even deeper into his pockets, cursing the awkwardness he felt.  What _did_ one say in front of a good friend's death shrine?

He plunked himself down on the floor before the altar, determined to stay there until he thought of something more appropriate to say.  For a moment he idly watched the smoke curling lazily from the incense burning by the ihai.

Yahiko had shown him around the dojo after his class of the morning had been dismissed.  The dojo had been rebuilt to an austere dignity it wore well, and as Yahiko proudly pointed out additions and renovations Sano had tried to look interested for his sake.  Considerable changes had been made to the buildings to accommodate more students and more residents, especially after Tsubame and Yahiko had moved in with their young family.

But the older man's mind had wandered, singling out spots on the porch where he and his friends had often gathered many years before; particular rooms, including one where a wall cracked by a sakabatou had been completely mended; the kitchen and dining hall, sites of many bruised heads once insults were aired about the cooking of the lady of the house.

And as Sano paused now before Kenshin's shrine, lips pursing as if around a fishbone, he wondered whether the sunlight from the courtyard had been intended.  Certainly, as he stared out the open shoji into the yard, images leapt easily to mind.  A well-remembered, high-pitched laugh rang as Megumi's fox ears flirtatiously perked in Kenshin's direction.  Kaoru nagged Yahiko to sweep up the leaves, buy tofu, or do some other chore while Genzai's two little girls glomped onto Sano's long legs.

But different voices now echoed from the courtyard, younger voices, and the talk was childlike and carefree—none of stained pasts or old enemies.  In the days of the so-called Kenshingumi, it had been only the few of them shaking up the old dojo with their noise and bustle.  Now, with Yutarou's dozen students practicing thunderously in the training hall, Yahiko's three children squabbling in the yard over some toy or other, and a flock of student boarders under Tsubame's supervision constantly trooping back and forth on various chores, Sano had to laugh at his own sneaking feeling that the place was under siege.

His round-cheeked otouto who once simply cowered in his oneesan Uki's arms was now a man strong enough to help break up smuggling rings as he traveled the country.  And when Genzai had died several years ago, little Suzume and Ayame had moved away to Kanagawa.  A certain redheaded cook-slash-houseboy-slash-bodyguard no longer scrubbed yukata at the well, and Kaoru...

_I've been gone too long_, thought Sanosuke for the hundredth time that day.

 "Excuse me, Sagara-san."

Sano looked up through long bangs at Kenji, who stood composed before him, blue-violet eyes grave.  His long auburn hair was tied in a high sagegami; his left hand rested on the hilt of the sakabatou.  Kuso, thought Sano good-naturedly, the way Kenshin's boy looks, time could be goin' backward, not forward.

 "I hope you don't mind if I sit with you, sir."  Though the words were perfectly polite, Sano felt his eyebrows rising as if of their own accord at the boy's frosty, distant tone.  But the older man nodded acquiescence, and Kenji gracefully folded his long legs into a sitting position before his father's altar, laying the sakabatou across his knees.

The boy did not pray, as Sanosuke had half expected him to do.  Instead, he stared at the shrine before him as though lost in thought.  Sano made a mental shrug and went back to his reverie.

Once again he was roused from it, however, by Kenji's impeccably polite, perfectly measured voice.

 "I thank you, Sagara-san, for helping find my father and sending him back home.  My mother told me you took care of him while he was in China."

 "'Was nothin', kid—eeto, Kenji...kun."  Sano winced at the way he'd stumbled over the name.  On the one hand, he knew little about this boy except that he unsettled Sano as few other people could; on the other hand, Kenji was indeed the son of one of his truest friends.  "Kenshin kinda counted on me that time.  So."

 "If I may ask, were you with him in the war?"  The boy's voice and manner were still distant, but the slender fingers restlessly traced the carved kanji on the saya in his lap again and again.

 "Nope.  I didn't even know Kenshin'd been travelin' around 'til I got Jou-chan's message to look for him.  I thought all the time he was just back home in Japan."

 "Iie, Sagara-san.  He left."

Sanosuke glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.  For all of Kenji's skill in concealing his emotions, the anger edging the boy's bland tones was too vicious to be completely hidden.

 "He first left when I was about five," said Kenji matter-of-factly—a son dutifully filling in his father's friend on news he had missed while traveling abroad, nothing more.  "He was pretty often gone from home after that."

 "Oh yeah?"  Sano kept his own voice light with no more than friendly curiosity.  "Che, the stuff I've been missin'.  Where'd he go?"

 "Everywhere.  Anywhere.  I don't really know."  Kenji sat up against the wall and leaned his sakabatou against his shoulder.  Sano squelched a smile at the unconscious imitation of a very familiar pose.  "Somebody else's war.  Some rebellion or other.  Everywhere but here, anyhow."

There was an awkward pause.  Kenji's eyes were focused keenly on the ihai, as though studying the inscribed characters for the first time in his life.  Sano followed the boy's gaze.  He lingered on the name for a few moments before dismissing it as totally alien, utterly irrelevant to his memories of the man to whom the name had been given.

 "Bet he never even brought back a souvenir for ya, huh?"

Kenji smiled humorlessly.  "They always said he was out there because he was fighting to protect other people.  Those of this country, or the weak and oppressed of another.  They said that was what he'd been doing all his life."

 "Well, whoever 'they' were, 'they' were pretty much right."  Sano lay down to sprawl comfortably on the floor.  With his foot he nudged the shoji to the courtyard a little farther apart.  A few brown, brittle leaves skated across the porch into the room on a gust of wind.

"Do you think so, Sagara-san?"  Though the boy's face remained inert, there was a sudden weariness in his voice.  Sanosuke glanced at him through long bangs.  Kenji's eyes were shut, fingers lightly splayed across the hilt of his sword.

Sano wondered how good he was with it.  "I was there for just about eight months of it, but yeah, I kinda got the gist of things.  Kenshin had a lot of things happen in his crazy life, but he never did stop fighting for what he believed was his truth." 

 "His truth.  Protecting others' happiness."

Sanosuke hesitated.  Was that a simple question, or was he being baited?  "Aa.  Kenshin went through a lot to make sure of that."

 "Because he'd been Battousai.  He wanted to atone for his sins as a hitokiri."

Sanosuke arched an eyebrow at the child's bluntness.  "You could say that.  But even before he ever got involved with the Shishi, he knew that was what he wanted t'do.  How'd you find all this out?"

Kenji shrugged.  Sano thought he glimpsed Kenshin in the way the child so quickly and deftly shuttered his emotions from others' view, but the difference from his father—bitterness instead of gentleness, a cooled, hardened anger instead of kind consideration—was striking.

 "Yahiko-sensei has told me about my father.  So have Yutarou-sensei, Megumi-sensei, Misao-basan.  Hiko-sensei also told me a little about his 'baka deshi.'  Okaasan has been less forthcoming, but I have been able to piece some of the stories together."

 "Didja ever ask Kenshin himself?  Stories have their own lives, kid.  You should always get to the source."

Kenji frowned.  "Otousan would not have understood."

Sanosuke grunted, his tone somewhere along the lines of "Ya think?"

 "Otousan was afraid of  letting the truth be known, even to his own son."  Kenji's voice was clipped and dark with contempt.  "He was always afraid, about all kinds of shadows and stupid things he would never tell me about.  I was always too young, too much of a child in his eyes.  He wanted to keep me like that.  He wouldn't even let sensei talk about him while he was around.  Then, when I started finding out anyway, he started avoiding this house.  That's why he was always away—always trying to escape me and the stories I heard—" 

His voice died in a rasp as Sano's heel dug very lightly into his windpipe, the foot poised at his throat with unerring control.

 "Be careful, kid."  His tone was calm, but Sano's eyes were narrowed at the way Kenji's hand had tightened reflexively around his sword hilt.  "No son has a right to speak evil of his father, especially not you and not yours.  I don't know your story yet, but if that's all you can say about Kenshin, then I do pity you, 'cause you don't seem to know him that well."

A second, two seconds ticked by.  Kenji said nothing, but the cold stare he gave Sanosuke spoke volumes enough; the narrowed eyes alight with gold and the lowered brows caused tendrils of frost to wrap around the older man's heart.  Still Sano stared back, his foot never wavering where it could choke the boy in a moment.

He could see in Kenji's deadly gaze the battle in his head—humility in accepting Sano's chastisement warring with injured pride.  Kenji was young and very strong, this Sanosuke could see from a single glance at his finely taut muscles, the sitting position from which he could easily uncoil for a lethal strike at godlike speed.  This was indeed the child of Kaoru and Kenshin Himura, taught by Kenshin's shishou himself.

This boy's itching for a fight.  I can only hope that Hiko taught him better than that. 

A sudden breeze caused the chime outside to ring wildly.  Out in the courtyard, a child was crying, Yahiko's youngest boy from the sound of it; his two siblings could be heard frantically trying to placate him before Tsubame heard.  Slowly, never lowering his gaze from Kenji's, Sano lowered his foot.  The boy wordlessly averted his blue-violet eyes, rubbed at his throat.

 "Sumimasen," Kenji muttered at last.  "You are right, Sagara-san"—he smiled bitterly—"there are many things I do not yet understand about my father."

Sanosuke nodded.  For now, it seemed, humility had won out.  "He wasn't the one who gave you that sword?"

Kenji shook his head.  "It was Yahiko-sensei.  He came to get me in Kyoto when Otousan came home the last time."

 "Well.  Your dad was pretty hard to figure out even before you were born."  Sano, settling in for a nap, clasped his hands behind his head and stared out at the clear blue autumn sky.  "I think sometimes even he couldn't figure himself out.  So don't be all mad about not understandin' him yet, and don't go beatin' people up for the answers, either.  That's what I used to do," he said with a snort.  "You, kid, may just have to do it the hard way like I did:  Figure 'em out for yourself."  He chuckled.  "'Course, that could take years."

_Chikushou_, scoffed Sanosuke at himself.  _I sound like a monk, the way I talk.  Just lemme chant some sutras..._  He had almost nodded off when Kenji spoke again, sounding much lighter, more curious.

 "Yahiko-sensei said you fought with Otousan through a lot of battles even sensei didn't get to see.  A long time ago.  Maybe you could tell me about some of them?"

Rousing, Sanosuke grinned, feeling the frost between them melt slightly.  _I think I'm startin' to figure you out now, Himura Kenji._  "That's a hell of a lot of stories, kid.  Too many to tell with a dry throat."

He was surprised at the short laugh that escaped Kenji's lips; the boy himself looked startled, though not displeased.  "Sekihara-san _has_ been badgering Yahiko-sensei for a party to welcome you back," he said, smiling down at the sword whose leather-wrapped hilt he kept absent-mindedly caressing.

Sano laughed.  "Aa, I heard.  The little girl should be coming right over soon with the invitation..."

 "Little girl, Sagara-san?"

Sanosuke caught himself and grinned again, shaking his head at the wonder of fifteen years' passage.  Small wonder Kenji was puzzled—the Tsubame the boy knew was twenty-seven, not twelve, and a Sanjou no longer.  Old habits were hard to break.  Sano shook his head ruefully.

 "I meant Tsubame-san, of course."  Sano privately vowed never to get used to the formal name.  _I'll call her "little girl" in front of her grandkids, so help me._

Kenji grinned and shook his head.  "Fifteen years is a long time to be gone from anywhere, ne, Sagara-san?"

 "Aa."  It was meant to be a laugh, but for some reason it came out a sigh instead.  Sano frowned.  "That it is, kid."

 "And far too long to go without tasting Akabeko cuisine."  Smiling, Kenji stood up and slid the sword into his belt.  "If you'll excuse me, Sagara-san, I shall see that the arrangements are made for tonight."  

Sano chuckled.  Maybe Kenji was still Kenshin's child after all.  "And then we'll see if Hiko managed to pass on the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu godlike alcohol tolerance to its newest student."

Kenji's soft laugh lingered in his wake as he left, padding down the hall on light soundless feet.  Grinning broadly, Sanosuke stood up and, with a last backward glance at the shrine, stepped out to the engawa facing the courtyard.

The two spiky-haired Myoujin boys, quarrel forgotten, were sparring with shinai:  Shin-ya, seven, was calmly fending off four-year-old Heishiro's increasingly frustrated attacks.  The younger Myoujin finally crawled up his brother and began gnawing on his head in a distinctly familiar manner that soon had Sano's stomach aching with suppressed laughter.  Some distance away, their six-year-old sister demurely took tea with Megumi; the girl glanced constantly at the doctor, making sure to imitate her every move.  Megumi, for her part, was conversing with Akiko with great dignity about patterns for doll clothes.

Perhaps it was age, or maybe even the weather in Aizu, but for some reason Megumi's hair was no longer as straight as Sano remembered it to have been.  It flowed into waves around her shoulders and, as she tipped back her head for a sip of tea, curled black and sensuous around her pale neck.

Sano's grin softened.  Sake would definitely quench a fifteen-year-old thirst, but for the moment, tea would do just as well.

~ tsuzuku ~

**A/N.**  This is, again, a revised chapter.  (See Chapter 2 and author's note therein.)  I shoulda done my math right from the beginning of this story.  There's something to be said for writing in the heat of the moment, but really, I should improve my reality checks. ^.^;  Gomen nasai for the inaccuracies.  If I have not corrected them enough, please just point me to what needs fixin'.

Watsuki-sama said his vague plans for Himura Kenji would be to eventually pit him against Myoujin Shin-ya for the sakabatou and for the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu.  I hate to break with the Man Himself on this, but the Seisou Hen does kinda throw a wrench into canon... @.@  After all, in the OAV Yahiko spars with Kenji for the latter's genpuku (coming-of-age)... so now he _does_ have the sakabatou already, right?  Rrrr...annoying OAV people... _  And then Shin-ya is way, wayy younger than Kenji, so a fight between them would probably not be very even.  Especially since Kenji is, well, Kenji.

Had a heckuvatime writing this chapter.  There's just so much to find out about Kenji, so much to delve into him for... and yet I fear it's also so very easy to fail to do justice to his character.  @.@  Anyway, I hope my characterization for now was good.  If it wasn't... just let me know in the review (subtle hint) and I will do my best to try to improve things.  By the way, Maria Cline, it's funny...you seem to have read my mind about Kenji and Sano having a little tete-a-tete.  Sorry I didn't go too much into the anger bit, that _would_ be terribly juicy stuff, wouldn't it?  But it is, after all, only the first time they've ever met...

Fourth point:  I hope I didn't offend anyone by the chapter title.  I was just bouncing title ideas around in my head and I remembered that "nisei" means "second generation," and I thought it just fit.  If any WWII connotations prove too strong and too negative for readers to shake off, please just let me know and I'll change the title.  I think it's a really cool term though, taken on its own. ^.^

As always, arigatou for reading!  Hope you all had a very happy Christmas, and hope you'll have a happy New Year too. ^.^ 


	7. Of Shoes, and Ships, and Sealing Wax

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Six:  Of Shoes, and Ships, and Sealing Wax

Megumi shut the shoji behind her with a relieved sigh.  Perhaps it was the effect of fifteen years of living alone, but she easily tired of parties, and she was glad to sit out in the cool free air of the evening and nurse her last cup of sake in peace.  In the dining hall, Yahiko's children, Tae's children, and the student boarders were still noisily cheering on Sanosuke and Kenji, who were locked in a ferocious drinking contest.  Megumi had left once she'd noticed Kenji's eyes glazing over.  She didn't want to witness him goaded into drunken oblivion by his father's long-lost best friend—and right in front of his wide-eyed girlfriend Kiriko too.

As she sat down on the engawa, behind her an enormous collective roar shook the house.  She glanced back in curiosity just as the shoji opened and a tall, lanky figure swaggered out of the dining hall to an accompaniment of cheers, laughter, and gleeful shouting.

 "The kid's good, but I'm better."  Sanosuke plopped down beside Megumi, looking flushed and immensely pleased with himself.  Arching an eyebrow at him, Megumi threw back the last of her sake and felt its warmth surge through her chest.

 "You should be ashamed of yourself.  Challenging a boy less than half your age.  Only a brute would do that."  Megumi hid her smile in her hair.

 "He's no ordinary kid, Megitsune.  You and I know that."  Chuckling, Sanosuke leaned back on his hands, clicking a fishbone against his teeth.  "Maybe Hiko's losin' his touch."

 "Somehow I doubt that."  Megumi shook her head to dispel an image of a fifty-eight-year-old Hiko Seijuurou the thirteenth, seated before his potter's kiln and tipping the last contents of yet another sake jug into his mouth.

From the other side of the hall, hurried footsteps and excited voices slowly trailed away toward Kenji's room.  They sounded as though they were carrying something heavy among them—a young man's limp body, perhaps.  "Maybe you should just wait another thirteen years," murmured Megumi, wondering if she should check on Sano's poor victim.

 "Maybe so.  Anyway, you should be ready with some hangover antidote in the mornin'."  He lay back with a satisfied belch.  "Man, Tae's cooking is still the best I've ever had."

 "It's really too bad fifteen years of world travel hasn't yet trained you out of that disgusting belch."  Wrinkling her nose, Megumi fanned her hand to dissipate the stale smell of semi-digested sushi.

 "Sumanu."  Scratching his head, Sano sounded so sheepish Megumi had to laugh.

 "Why, toriatama, wonders never cease.  You apologize for your bad habits now?"

 "I'm not like a kitsune-onna I know.  My pride ain't too big to swallow once in a while."  He ducked just as Megumi made a swipe for his ear.  Still laughing, he stood up.

 "Going to bed already?"  Megumi made no effort to hide her amazement.

He made no response—which annoyed her no end—and strode over to the dojo's entrance.  Seeing shadows underneath the gate, Megumi realized the arrival of visitors must not have been heard in the noise of the party.  Curious, she followed Sano, steeling herself to take steady steps as the alcohol buzzed pleasantly in her head.

Sano unlatched the gate and flung it open, nearly tearing it off its hinges.  In the lamplight outside, a tall, fine-boned young man, one foot on the step of a carriage and another on the ground, blinked mildly at the sudden welcome.  Megumi had already met him months ago, and as she took in the rosy cheeks, cleanly handsome face, and slightly mussed hair, she sighed not for the first time.  _Ken-san, I swear, if I were just fifteen years younger... you'd have met your match at last._

The young man turned toward the inside of the carriage, earnestly thanking for the ride an occupant neither Megumi nor Sanosuke could see.  Sano stood leaning against the jamb of the gateway, head bowed, arms crossed over his chest, saying nothing as the young man conversed cheerfully with the invisible carriage occupant.  Megumi, standing in the courtyard, strained surreptitiously to hear; the voice from inside the carriage was young, female, and solicitous, and apparently concerned as to the young man's safety at the dojo with such a rough-looking older man around.

Soon, however, farewells were said, and Megumi smiled at the obvious warmth in their voices.  Then the carriage door was shut, the horses coaxed into a canter, and as the carriage rattled on down the street, Higashidani Outa turned toward the dojo and the lanky, well-muscled man silently standing in the gateway.  The long, thin bundle tied to his back cast shadows down on the younger man's face.

 "Komban wa," said Outa politely, bowing.  "Anou... is Myoujin-sensei in?"

 "Yahiko-_chan_ is in all right."  Sano inclined his head to grin at him in the lamplight, teeth flashing over fishbone.  "You're just in time for the party, Round-Cheeks."

Outa's confused expression quickly faded into one of amazement.  Megumi chose that moment to approach.  "Okaeri nasai, Outa-kun."

 "Sensei.  It's good to see you again."   Outa bowed again, but his brown eyes darted swiftly toward Sano.  "This man..."

 "You can't blame him, toriatama," Megumi teased Sanosuke, enjoying the irritation that flickered across Outa's face as she spoke past him.  "He was still a child then.  Or so Uki-chan told us."

 "Round-Cheeks.  None of that look in your eyes.  You oughta be used to the kitsune by now."  Sano shut the gate and turned to Outa, who was still standing on the pathway, uncertain and visibly flustered.  Sanosuke held out his hand.  "And none of that bowing for me either.  I find an honest handshake from the West suits me better."

Outa grasped the offered hand with a wide grin.  "Oniisan."

Neither brother spoke for a moment and the handshake did not become an embrace, but somehow Megumi felt emotion enough in the warmth with which the two pairs of very similar brown eyes met.  Evident in Sano's eyes, his broad smile, the firm strength with which he grasped the other's hand, was his approval of the young man his younger brother had become.

The two brothers began walking toward the dining hall, Megumi leading the way.  "How was Yokohama?  Still dirty and smoky?" asked Sanosuke after spitting out his fishbone, which landed with a rustle in the bushes.

 "Very Western.  Not a kimono in sight, and you couldn't walk a block without seeing a gaijin or twelve.  Fascinating, but Tokyo is still a bit more old-fashioned, still more beautiful for me.  You must be well acquainted with such people, though."

Megumi, walking silently ahead of them, heard the wistfulness in Outa's tone.  The young man was more a scholar than a warrior—he'd been to Yokohama to obtain foreign books, among others—but wanderlust, it seemed, ran in the blood.

 "Well, you can't exactly avoid 'em when you're out there.  But after a while you kinda start longin' for people from home, a language you don't have to twist your head up to speak."  Sano grinned.  "So that's enough small talk.  Who was the chick?"

Megumi let out an irrepressible laugh, imagining, behind her, Outa turning red from the question.  It was hard to believe he was related to Sanosuke sometimes.

 "Ah, her?"  Outa obviously couldn't feign innocence to save his life.  Megumi squashed the giggles that were rising within her.    "I just hitched a ride with her on the way here.  I um...  I never met her before."

 "Otouto's holdin' back on me.  Well, if your tongue needs a bit of loosenin', I hope Yahiko and the others haven't polished off all the sake yet."

They entered the dining hall, where the merriment had faded somewhat, on account of the younger ones—Shin-ya and his siblings, the students boarding at the dojo—having already been sent off to bed by Yahiko.  Tsubame bade Akira escort the two Sekihara children home, well aware that Miyako had been making eyes at the boy for some time now.  Megumi was surprised and amused at the streak of matchmaker the typically shy younger girl appeared to have in her.  While Akira was clearly dragging his feet about the request, avoiding Megumi's gaze as he passed her, Miyako seemed both mortified and pleased as they went out by the gate.

Outa quickly helped himself to what remained of dinner, telling Sanosuke of what had happened while he had been away, while Megumi served him sake so flirtatiously Sano's amused glances soon turned menacing.  Outa pretended not to notice, though he stumbled frequently over his words and his cheeks grew redder and redder until Megumi finally subsided, fearing the younger man would start bursting blood vessels.

Outa had been seven when his father and sister took him to the dojo for his training.  When he had been left in the care of the Himura household, Uki insisted on staying faithfully with their father, despite the attentions of a young Shinsuu silk merchant and her own reciprocation.  After two years of bullying, Kamishimoemon finally succeeded in convincing the young man to propose and his daughter to accept.  "You've got two nieces and a nephew now, 'Niisan," finished Outa with a grin.  "Uki's never been so happy in her life."

Sanosuke smiled with a wistfulness that startled Megumi, who was watching and listening intently as she picked at a plate of pickled vegetables.  "The family's growin', eh?  Didn't really know I had one left to come back to."

 "Oh, Uki still talks about you sometimes."  Outa smiled back over his sake cup.  "She's always said you'd come back, you know."

Sanosuke paused, and then shook his head, still smiling.  "Women's intuition.  So the old man's still alive and kickin', ne?  I guess bad grass is hard to kill."

His brother chuckled, then appeared to remember something.  "Ah, Megumi-sensei."  Outa pulled a fat, cloth-covered bundle out of a bag and held it out to her.  "I brought the package you asked for."

Megumi smiled, placing it on her lap.  "Arigatou."

 "Package?"  Sano popped the last piece of sushi into his mouth.

 "Just some research I mean to conduct," Megumi said dismissively.

 "But you must tell us of your adventures now, 'Niisan," said Outa eagerly.  "Stories of back home must be pretty tame compared to what you've seen, where you've been."

 "'Guess you could say that."  Chuckling, Sano leaned back against the post, hands placed behind his head and eyes gazing distantly across the room.  "I spent some time in the cities, some time out in the wilderness.  I saw some pretty amazin' things... huge waterfalls and great big canyons, opal mines and caves that had these really old paintings on the walls, all kinds of animals—some of 'em were beautiful and some of 'em were just plain ugly, like these big gray four-legged hog-like things with little trunks in South America.  There's this tiny island out in the biggest ocean in the world without anyone livin' on it, but there are these gigantic stone heads set in the grass, and nobody knows yet how they got there and who made 'em.  And when you get in the cities you notice that different kinds o' people have different kinds of buildings.  You oughta see the temples they got in India and Morocco, Round-Cheeks—those Muslims go all out on the decor.  A totally different style from how we make 'em in Japan, with these fat bulbs on top that look like onions.  And in the desert they ain't got roofs pointy like ours; their houses are flat on top, like big brown boxes, 'cause they hardly ever get any rain or snow..."

Sanosuke ambled on, telling dreamily about Arabian marketplaces and American cotton plantations, storms at sea and in the desert, cavernous stone castles in Spain and triangular royal tombs in Egypt perhaps half as big as Mount Fuji.   Megumi smiled at the faraway look in his eyes and wished she could have seen these fantastic images for herself.  She laughed when he told about riding a camel, picturing tall Sanosuke growing so nauseous from being pitched from side to side by the camel's slow, rocking gait that he finally got down and ran the rest of the way.  And she closed her eyes to better imagine his descriptions of copper-skinned natives dancing around heaps of burning herbs, of ladies simpering behind their plumy fans, draped in lacy white finery, embodying the elegance of a glamorous seaport city many leagues to the southeast.

After about an hour of storytelling Outa's energy, if not his attention, was visibly flagging, so Sanosuke postponed telling of his adventures until some more rested moment.  The younger man staggered off to one of the spare rooms—Yahiko had given him Sano's old longhouse years before, but Outa was too tired for the walk halfway across town--while Megumi and Sanosuke brought the last of the party's dishes to the kitchen.  The rest had already been cleared by those student boarders still sentient after the evening's festivities.  They left only Tsubame, Yahiko, and the Sekihara couple in the dining hall discussing politics.

"It's too bad you didn't finish telling all about your travels, toriatama."  Despite the nickname, Megumi spoke mildly; Sanosuke had, after all, worn himself out obliging them with his stories.  She washed the last of the plates while Sano did his part of cleanup by systematically emptying the sake bottles one by one.  "But I suppose you've so much to tell after fifteen years that an entire evening wouldn't be enough."

 "You got that right, kitsune."  Leaving the last sake bottle with its equally empty companions in the corner, Sano yawned, rubbing his hand in contented circles over his flat, muscled stomach.  "'N' now I think I'm ready for a nap on the old porch again."

 "You must miss the free air after being out there for so long."  Megumi stepped out onto the porch that led to her room several doors away.  Following in her wake, Sano slid the kitchen door shut behind him. 

 "Tokyo ain't so bad yet, but it's different out there in the wild, kitsune.  There's a different smell to the wind, and it seems colder and fresher somehow than any winter air in Japan."

Megumi, padding toward her room, smiled in wonder at the distant, certain tone in Sanosuke's voice as he trailed along behind her.  No longer the brash, earthy ex-gangster enthusing about violent encounters with gamblers and criminals, he was a wanderer returned, new visions and ideas seeded in his active mind by alien winds and softening his voice with an awe and a joy that Megumi could not for the life of her recall hearing from him before.  Not even Kenshin had spoken thus, the former hitokiri whose life had been too early shadowed with one small country's war to take on the mysteries and wonders of entire continents.

She paused with this thought and glanced back at him.  He had his hands in his pockets and his bearded face turned toward the setting moon.

 "Do you know how much you've changed, toriatama?"

He grinned as he looked at her.  "Not really.  Have I?"

Megumi smiled.  "A little.  Decent enough polish for the fighting idiot you are, I suppose."

 "Even a one-hit guy like me can learn a few new tricks now 'n' then."

She laughed softly.  "See?  You _have_ changed.  I suppose you've learned by now that I'm always right, so you've finally realized it's stupid to argue with me like you used to."

"Nah.  I just learned to respect my elders, that's all.  And ignore 'em when they're bein' senile."  Sano grinned broadly as she shot him a dirty look.

She was pointedly silent as she slid open the door to her room when, fumbling in his pocket, he said, "Here, Megitsune, I got somethin' for ya.  I left my stuff at the Akabeko, but I figured I'd drop this off first.  Save me yappin' later on."

 "What is this?"  Curiously, Megumi accepted the leather case he thrust toward her abruptly, as though decisively tearing himself from some beloved object.  The flap was fringed, with red and yellow beading, and the brown leather was soft and finely furred to her fingertips.  She turned it over in her palms, admiring the neat stitches in black and red thread.  She looked up expectantly, but Sano had already turned and was making long, easy strides in the direction of the courtyard.

 "Open it an' find out," he called out; Megumi would in younger days have been incensed by such an answer, but now she merely sighed in exasperation.  "I'm down for the count.  'Yas'mi, kitsune."

She slipped into her room glad to be out of the late autumn evening cold.  The sake's effect had mostly ebbed, and though she had been sleepy only a few minutes before Sanosuke's surprise gift had reawakened her.  She quickly unrolled her futon and snuggled into the welcome warmth of the sheets, then propped herself up on her palms and opened the leather case.

She gasped as paper spilled out—perhaps one hundred yellowed sheets of paper of varying textures and sizes and amounts of smudged and blotted ink, all covered in a handwriting Megumi immediately recognized as Sanosuke's.  She was amused to notice as she flipped through the sheaf of papers that the penmanship on the pages on the top was markedly messier than the pages on the bottom—as though time and practice had somewhat succeeded in taming Sanosuke's wild handwriting.

She turned to the first page and was stunned to discover that it began with a date over twelve years ago and the characteristic salutation, "Oei Megitsune!"

It dawned on her as she hastily skimmed the rest of the page that it was a letter he had addressed to her—and as she hurriedly leafed through the other papers it became clear that everything else he had written were all in the same letter format, each addressed to her.  And it told her, in phrases that over time grew ever richer and more colorful, of where he was, what he was doing there, how he had come to be there; the state of the weather, the costumes and food of the locals, the make and style of their towns and cities, the extent to which Western influence had already permeated the native culture.

It was clearly too much to finish reading in one night, but she decided to read until she fell asleep.  As she rearranged the letters to their former neatness, a few pages fell out before she could catch them and scattered across her blanket.

 It's frickin' beautiful out here in the desert.  I won't say sorry for that word, 'cause that's the only way I can properly say it.  I never saw so many stars in so many sizes and colors even when I was a kid and it was a new moon in Shinsuu.  Out here I almost don't wanna sleep just so I can keep lookin' up at 'em.  I bet there ain't a sky so pretty even in your beloved Aizu...

She had been drawn well into the first scribbled paragraph before she realized her fingers were clutching the paper far more tightly than necessary and she was holding her breath.  Exhaling long and slow, she replaced the page in the sheaf, checking the date.  Sanosuke had written the lines almost six years ago.

...and even if there were a sky like this, you'd be too busy sewin' up patients and fixin' broken bones to look up an' see it.

And Megumi, neatly inserting the papers back into their case with the exception of the first few pages, could only smile and shake her head ruefully.  Sano could be stupid sometimes, but it seemed he knew her more than he let on after all.  

As she turned to the first page, she thought of calling Sanosuke back to explain to her just why he had written so many letters he never sent—and the question that pulsed with her heart's blood, Why her?  Brow furrowing, she hesitated over the first page as that question burned through all her other thoughts, leaving them in ash.

But then he had, after all, given these to her to read at last, and read them she would.  Perhaps she could find the answers in the yellowed pages and the writing that—Megumi giggled uncharacteristically—did, after all, look like a chicken's scratches in the ground.  So she took out the reading spectacles she was too proud to wear in public and turned on the electric lamp Kaoru constantly feared would burn down the dojo, and was soon lost among the twisted pines in the cloud-enshrouded mountains of northern China.

Outside, far on the other side of the engawa where he could see both the gate and the bright yellow light from Megumi's room, Sanosuke sat up long into the night despite the palpable cold, smoke curling gray and filmy from a long thin pipe, his shadowed, distant eyes closing at last only as the sky began to lighten.

~ tsuzuku ~

* _one-hit guy_ – Sanosuke's other character theme (after "Kokoro no Hadaka") is "Ippatsu Yarou", literally "One-Hit Guy" or "One-Punch Dude."

**A/N.**  Gomen, this was quite a heavy chapter.  I really intend to put in a somewhat more lighthearted bit soon, but as I'm not too handy with comedy, I'm still procrastinating. ^.^  I hope you're not too bogged down yet by all these huge feelings and realizations and things.

Heartfelt apologies for the long delay.  The holidays were stressful and really busy, and now that school has resumed, papers and projects are coming at me again with the same old vengeance. @.@  Anyhow, I hope the wait was worthwhile... and that none of my characters have missed the mark.   Especially with the last part, I felt like I was walking a tightrope portraying the rooster and the fox...  Do you think I made it across safely, or did I fall?  ^.^;  Dialogues are tricky to write too, so I hope I didn't trip up with that aspect.  And were the letters overdone?  I did want to put a bit like that in... just to make up for his not communicating with them for so long. ^.^  Ah, I beg your patience and pardon for any missteps.

Zeh Wulf just finished her really cool story "In These Final Hours" (go check it out!  You won't be sorry! ^.^) and it's kinda given my conscience a bit of a kick.  So I will try my very best to have this tale all done by, hmm, March.  (Eep, that's just about two months...)

Thank you for reading!  Please be so kind as to drop me a line or two with your feedback.  Greatly appreciated every time, I promise you.  ^.^


	8. Fuuko

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

glossary:

gomen nasai = sorry

ohayou = good mornin'!

gi = the loose floppy shirt worn for kendo, among other things, usually by guys

bokken = wooden sword used for kendo; heavier and more solid than a shinai

maa = calm down...

wakizashi = the short sword traditionally wielded by samurai, shorter than a katana (but shorter than Aoshi's kodachi, fyi ^.^)

Seven:  Fuuko

The day dawned bright and cloudless and chill.  After a breakfast from which Sanosuke was conspicuously absent, Megumi sought to ask him about the letters.  She found him snoring blissfully on the porch near the gate, oblivious to the curious students sidestepping his luxuriously spread-eagled figure on the way to class.

Not having the heart to wake him from his well-deserved rest, Megumi returned to her room.  The package Outa had brought contained herbs and roots she had sent for from a colleague in another part of the world, and she was eager to begin studying them.

She trusted that Sano on waking up would make enough noise to alert her, and so she worked contentedly in her room for a while.  It was only some hours later, absorbed in a treatise on the foreign plants' properties, that she looked up and realized it was nearly noon, with still no sign of Sanosuke's typically rowdy presence. 

 "Sanosuke-san said he would eat at the Akabeko," said Tsubame cheerfully when Megumi found her in the kitchen supervising lunch preparations.  "He said he still had some things to take care of in town.  Gomen nasai, was there something you wanted to tell him before he left?"

_When will he be back this time?_  Megumi tried to suppress the question as soon as it popped into her head, but it was already troubling her.  She forced her mouth into a nonchalant smile to meet Tsubame's questioning eyes.

 "I was just wondering if we'd have to bother fixing a meal for that bottomless pit too."  She shrugged, briskly tying back her sleeves.  "The growing boys go through the stock like worms, but with his appetite he's worth about five of them, ne, Tsubame-chan?"  And with a coy smile at the younger woman, she noted with satisfaction that the perplexed look in the wide black eyes had quickly faded into their accustomed expression—half flustered, half maternal.  As Tsubame turned away to exclaim over the fish, which the newest servant of the house was in danger of overcooking, Megumi silently congratulated herself on having successfully steered the younger woman's attention away from her and Sanosuke.

He was absent from the dojo all day and did not appear for dinner as Megumi half expected.  When another day passed and then another without any sign of him, she realized with a pang that he had left nothing behind in the dojo when he had departed so suddenly.

_Maybe he's run away again and just hasn't told me._  She was grinding herbs in the kitchen when the idea suddenly escaped the tight grip she had on her thoughts, arrested her smooth, rhythmic movements.  She shook her head vigorously.  _Us_, she corrected herself, forcing herself to continue, though she bore down on the pestle perhaps more forcefully than usual._  Hasn't told us._

Megumi didn't dare ask around for him; not only would rumors undoubtedly spread, if he found out he would never let her live it down.  But she was gladder than she would admit even to herself that she had her work to keep her occupied in his prolonged, unexplained absence.

Kaoru showed no signs of either improvement or deterioration as she slumbered peacefully through day and night.  Megumi devoted herself to her research, content enough that Kaoru's condition was stable.  Kenji had resumed his vigil as soon as the sake had left his system and would alert her to any emergencies. 

Early on the fourth morning, she was poring over chemistry texts and comparing them with her own fifteen-year-old notes when she heard in the distance the growing thunder of a horse's hoofs.  She paid it no attention until a very familiar voice rose in command over shrill whinnying.

She had just thrown back the shoji when a sleek brown horse cleared the back fence in one enormous leap, making Megumi stumble backward in awe.  The horse was immediately reined into a clattering halt in the yard—stirring up the neat piles of fallen leaves the students had labored all morning to rake—and though the animal still reared and tossed its head proudly, Sanosuke dismounted with easy grace and a broad grin.  Megumi noticed that several parcels and small chests had somehow survived the hurdle and now dangled haphazardly from the saddle in a knotty tangle of rope.

 "Show-off," the doctor sniffed as Sanosuke led the horse toward her.  "I was just starting to enjoy the peace and quiet, when you just _had_ to interrupt my work with your juvenile acrobatics."

 "Ohayou to you too, Megitsune," he said blithely.  "Is there still breakfast?  A good ride always makes me hungry."

 "Judging from your constant hunger, toriatama, riding is not a factor in your appetite."  But Megumi was smiling as she approached, eyeing in fascination the tall, handsome beast whose dark fur gleamed in the sunlight.  "Does this ride of yours have a name?"

 "Fuuko.  He's fast and likes makin' a lot o' noise, like me.  Only he's got a better sense o' direction, I think."

Megumi reached out tentatively, and when the horse lowered its head toward her with no more than a soft, snuffling snort, she stroked its long, fine nose in delight.  "He's also much sweeter.  Definitely."

 "He bites when I tell him to."

Megumi arched an eyebrow at him.  "I dare you."

Sanosuke merely chuckled, and after another moment of contentedly stroking the horse's mane and rubbing the fur of its slender neck Megumi realized he was simply standing there and watching her.  Feeling a most undignified blush creeping up onto her cheeks, she abruptly turned her back on him.

 "I suppose Tsubame-chan still has some okonomiyaki left over.  Have you fed that horse yet?"  Tone brisk and businesslike, she led the way to the kitchen, thinking that Yahiko would later have his hands full with horse tracks all over the painstakingly groomed  yard.

 "Yeah, they saw to him on the ship that brought him over."  Sano chuckled.  "I didn't know the fox was so good with horses."

Megumi surreptitiously rubbed her hot cheeks with the cool strands of her hair.  "I didn't know you were either."

 "He was just given to me.  By this... person I protected for a while."  Megumi noted the moment's hesitation without comment.  "That was about three years ago.  Since then he's been with me through a lot.  Ne, Fuuko?"  Sanosuke's gruffly affectionate tones were met with a long, rippling neigh.  "Not sure what I'll do with him as long as I'm in town though.  He'll get bored in the Akabeko stables after two hours." 

 "Attention-deficit, I see, just like his master," observed Megumi smoothly.  Before Sanosuke, glowering, could open his mouth to retort, she added, "I'll watch him while you eat something.  I can't do any tricks, but I do know a thing or two about horses myself."

 "Whatchamean, you can't do any tricks, kitsune?  I'm sure you could show me plenty sometime."  Sanosuke brushed past with a wicked grin.  "When we're in private," he added in a whisper, then dodged swiftly out of her way as she made a wild swing at his head with her fist.  He was still smirking when he sauntered into the kitchen and out of sight.  Megumi was left fuming in the yard, with the horse restlessly pawing at the ground some way behind her.

Some minutes later Sanosuke emerged from the kitchen, having secured a promise of fresh breakfast from the tittering servant girls.  He found Megumi sitting on the porch, her texts in her lap unheeded as she fed him some vegetables from her hands.

 "Doctorin' him with some herbs or somethin'?"  Sanosuke fondly rubbed the horse's sleek flank and set about untying the various objects from the saddle.

Megumi shook her head.  "I was actually thinking if you could lend him to me for a while."

 "Hey, if you're goin' on any adventures, you better take me along."  Sano laid a confused heap of bundles, bags, and small trunks on the porch beside Megumi.

 "Before Yahiko comes along and finds out you've wrecked his yard?"  She smiled sweetly.  "I don't know... A rematch between the two of you after all these years might be quite productive.  I'm tired of studying only paper models." 

Sanosuke sweatdropped.  "Eeto..."

"I need to go out to the country soon."  Her tone was serious again.  "It's the best time of year to gather my plants.  It looks like it'll be an early winter, and I must beat the first snow."  Megumi frowned.  "I wasn't sure if I should go since Kaoru is still sick.  On foot it would take too long.  But if you'll let me borrow your horse, I could be back before the day is out.  How about it?"

She groaned inwardly at the wide grin Sano suddenly gave her.  She had a feeling she knew what was coming.

 "He ain't used to someone else ridin' him.  I better ride with you, kitsune."

Visions of Sanosuke riding behind her in the saddle, his arms around her holding the reins, flashed through her head.  Megumi wasn't sure if she were more excited or mortified.  "In that case, never mind, toriatama," she said archly, shuffling her papers and trying to find the place where she had left off.  "I do believe I'll walk." 

 "Chance of a lifetime, kitsune."  His voice was low and hushed, his eyes glinting as he stooped to whisper practically in her ear.  "You, me, and a really hot, really sweaty—"

 "Sa—no—su—ke!!" thundered a voice from within the dojo, and Megumi and Sano sprang apart in surprise, the doctor not without some relief.  Sanosuke had just moved to stand protectively by his horse when the nearest door was thrust aside and a livid Yahiko came stalking out, still dressed in his teaching gi, his bokken at the ready.

 "That horse is ruining the dojo grounds!!" he ground out from between his teeth.  "Do you know how much it costs to have the grass kept decent?!  We'll have to reseed everything!!"

 "Maa, Yahiko, you're startin' to talk like Jou-chan now," laughed Sanosuke.  "And it's only patches."

 "Patches!"  Idly, Sano admired the obvious skill with which Yahiko swung his bokken this way and that.  "You tore up the turf over there, he's been eating it up over here, and wouldja look at those marks over there?  I oughta..."  And Yahiko advanced with an evil look in his eyes, the expertly wielded bokken now perfectly lining up for a blow to a shaggy head.  The students peeping at them through the open doorway began to chatter excitedly among themselves at the prospect of a match.

The horse became restless at the oncoming threat despite its master's soothing grasp on its bridle.  "Well, we know where we're not wanted," said Sanosuke with apparent hurt.  As Yahiko blew out a thoroughly exasperated puff of air, Sano leapt easily into the saddle, Fuuko rearing triumphantly beneath him.  The horse gave Sanosuke a height advantage; as Yahiko tried in vain to attack Sano without hurting the animal he rode, Sano, laughing, deftly spurred Fuuko into a canter around the yard, with an even more enraged Yahiko chasing him about, trying to get into range.  Megumi stood up and clung to a post for dear life as she laughed and laughed until tears ran down her cheeks.

 "Sano!  You stupid roosterhead!  Stop this!  You _idiot_, you're making things _worse!"_

Yahiko's speed was not quite godlike, but he was certainly holding his own against the horse, which was indeed ruining the grass further as it galloped in a wide circle around the dojo with a whooping Sano at the reins.  Then Sanosuke came to a skillful moment's halt in front of Megumi with his hand held out.

 "How's about those herbs, kitsune?"

After a split second, she answered his broad grin with her own mischievous one.  "Let's go," she said simply.  Texts clutched firmly in one hand, she hoisted herself into the saddle with the other, and just before Yahiko could take advantage of the pause to take excellent aim with his weapon, they were off.

Megumi was carefully tucking the pages into her sleeve when Sano growled into her ear.  "Hang on tight."

The back fence he had hurdled on entry loomed before them.  Megumi, anchoring herself as best she could while riding sidesaddle, had a fevered glimpse into her room as they passed.  Her notes and papers were still spread on her desk, waiting for her to resume her reading.

Then there was a breathless moment of nothing but wind in her face, and the landing was far less bone jarring than she'd expected it to be.  Fuuko wound skillfully through the entangled bamboo without checking his speed.  Clutching at her flying hair, Megumi glanced back to see Yahiko standing at the fence, fists on his waist and eyes glaring wakizashi.

 "It better be another fifteen years before you even think of coming back, ya stupid roosterhead!"

~ tsuzuku ~

**Rather long A/N.**  I'll number things so it's a bit organized:

1)  I know I read the phrase "eyes glaring wakizashi" somewhere before...  I don't remember now exactly who used it, but whoever you are, credit due to you.  ^.^

2)  And "Fuuko" just popped into my head when I was flailing about for a name for the blasted horse.  I hate naming things.  The name means "child of the wind," but I do wonder if it's supposed to be only for girls.  Japanese-savvy readers, please be so kind as to alert me to any blunders. ^.^; 

3)  Mou!  When I began writing this story in December (it was one of those ideas you _know_ you've got to start writing out _now_ or they'll disappear in a moment), I'd lent my second part of the second OVA to someone whom I now cannot remember for the life of me, and no one I asked recalled borrowing it from me, so as of now it is officially lost.  Only tonight (January) did I finally buy another copy, so now all the details I forgot that were on the second part, which I neatly overlooked in the previous chapters, are haunting me:

a)  Megumi is called from Aizu the moment Kaoru falls ill while waiting for Kenshin to come back.  So according to the OAV world (which as we all know is not really canon in the first place ;p), Megumi has to have known at least from that point onward just how sick Kenshin and Kaoru really were.

b)  This unworthy one (who does not live anywhere in Japan, that she doesn't) sort of forgot that Tokyo, too, is a harbor city.  Hence Megumi's (mistaken) comment in Chapter 3 that Kenshin walked all the way from Yokohama... which would indeed be a superhuman feat even for Kenshin, as ill as he was by then.  (Oh, but Kenshin's suffering was so pitiful that every step seemed to me a dozen miles... ;_;)

Also, in the OAV the dojo doesn't look anywhere near as new-and-improved or even as busy as I've made it out to be in earlier chapters.  Butbutbut... it _should _be! ;_;  At any rate—it would be kind of a letdown if I went back and revised everything just to conform with the OAV—let that be my (ab)use of artistic license, kay? ^.^ 

4)  Warm 'n' fuzzy gratitude to all who read and reviewed this and the earlier chapters!  popo katx, eriesalia, aislinn, Liz, and all the rest...   Thank you very much for your kind appreciation and reassurances that I haven't disappointed, well, not that much.  ^.^  I haven't written this sort of lengthy story in a loooong time, so I'm glad as ever to deliver where I can.

5)  This is the first of one or two light-ish chapters I hope to put in, just to ease the mood a bit.  Hope it works.  Megumi seems to be verging on the OOC-ly irresponsible here, but we shall soon see if I can take that risk and pull it off without a hitch.  ^.^;  This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but that's because the next one could be a bit longer.

6)  Speaking of chapters, this story seems to be spawning 'em with unforeseen fervor.  I reckon they'll run to fifteen or sixteen.  Maybe.  Let's hope.

7)  Incidentally, the past few weeks I've been rereading Louisa May Alcott's kiddie classics in a fit of nostalgia, and I think her style is seeping into my own...  I'll try to control it since it would be a pretty radical change in the flow of things, that I will.

Once again, domo arigatou and please keep reading! ^.^


	9. Kaiwa Soshite, Kimochi Mata, Kaiwa

glossary:

doko e? = where to?

tantou = knife or dagger, _eg_ the one Megumi tried to kill herself with before Sano rushed in to stop her ^.^

tabi = Japanese split-toed socks

kitsune-onna = literally, fox-lady

onna-sensei = woman doctor

sumanu = informal "sorry"

che = swear word ^.^;

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Eight:   Kaiwa.  Soshite, Kimochi.  Mata, Kaiwa

(Dialogue.  And then, Feelings.  Again, Dialogue)

"Doko e, kitsune?"

Megumi blinked.  The noise of rushing wind and jingling harness had precluded conversation, and she had lost herself in the many rich, long-forgotten smells that now enveloped her—the fur and sweat of the horse, the well-worn leather of its trappings, the clean scent of skin tinged ever so slightly with masculine musk that suggested Sano had bathed before appearing at the dojo.  Coupling rich senses with rich thought, she hardly noticed when they left the trees and fields.  Only now did she realize that Fuuko had slowed down, having turned into a little-used dirt road winding into the country.

Belatedly she saw that Sano had taken a route through what remained of the city's uninhabited wooded areas.  She had forgotten to voice her concern about being seen riding with a stranger through the streets, but had Sano suspected this and directed the horse accordingly?

 "We're headed north.  Ya wanna go home?"

His voice was husky and eager; involuntarily she stiffened as his breath tickled her ear.  Such proximity made her uncomfortable after so many years of deliberately distancing herself from other people.

Seeming to notice this, he immediately shifted as far away from her as the shared saddle would allow.  When he slipped off the saddle she let slip a gasp and clutched at his arm, thinking he was falling—but he had merely moved to ride bareback behind the saddle itself, and stared down at her hand on his arm until she snatched it away and turned to stare fixedly ahead, her face burning.

 "That grove," she said after a few minutes, when the flames in her cheeks had finally died down.  She pointed to a stand of trees on the crest of a hill some distance away.  "Can you take me there?"

Without a word he turned the horse—Megumi, realizing she had the reins in her hands, wordlessly conceded his skill—and Fuuko immediately left the road and plowed into the tall, stiff grasses that kissed Megumi's bare feet with their feathery tips.  The doctor remembered then, with a inward groan, that she had left her shoes at the dojo and had pocketed her currently useless tabi.

 "You realize, toriatama no baka, that I haven't any shoes," she said tersely as the horse slowed to a halt by the grove.

 "Then you're lucky I didn't finish unpackin' before Yahiko chased us off."  Sano freed one of the soft cloth pouches tied to the saddle, and in a moment Megumi was eyeing the fringed leather concoction he held out to her with mixed uncertainty and distaste.  She hesitated, unsure how to phrase her reaction.

But then Sano laughed, and Megumi itched to hit him.  "This is what the natives wear on a continent on the other side of the world," he explained briskly, as though eager to share his knowledge.  "They're used on the great prairies and dirt trails.  It's way more comfortable than any old geta.  Try it first, kitsune."

She took the shoes without a word but with a last, scornful glance at him.  It felt strange to wear shoes without an extra layer of sock between her sole and leather, but when she took her first steps in the grass, her mouth broke into a surprised smile.

 "Not bad at all, toriatama" was all she said, however, before turning away and walking toward the trees.

Sano slid off the horse and began following her more slowly, shuffling through the grass as if delighting in the noise and in the clouds of tiny insects that buzzed up in his face.  "Don't it feel good to be out in the fresh air?  You've all been cooped up too long in that old dojo, so I brought Fuuko especially to stir you up."

 "Tokyo is so big and growing so fast now, the countryside seems so far away."  Megumi's voice was faint as she walked among the trees, bent slightly forward to scan the ground, clasping her hair loosely to one side to keep it out of her face.  "Come over here and make yourself useful, toriatama, so that we can be back at the dojo sooner.  Something terrible could happen and they'd have no idea where to find us."

 "Relax, kitsune," snorted Sanosuke as he plunged into the trees after her, leaving Fuuko to graze contentedly.  "Fifteen years of work, work, work has made you even worse a worrywart than you used to be."

 "It's my job to worry," she snapped, carefully bundling a handful of sprigs in a soft, wide leaf.  "You, on the other hand, have done nothing but worry about nobody but yourself, self-centered unemployed idiot that you are."

 " 'Cept I don't worry, Megitsune.  Oi, now I'm here, what'm I s'posed to do?"

Megumi met his exasperated look with an amused one.  "Not step on anything with your big stupid feet," she said smoothly, eliciting from him a curse and a nimble leap onto the nearest rock, "and hold on to this for me.  Gently."

 "I got a whole bunch o' bags back with Fuuko if you need 'em."  Very gingerly, Sanosuke held the leaf-wrapped bunch of herbs between his thumb and forefinger as if fearing it would crumble to dust at the slightest touch.

 "Well, that would certainly be helpful.  I don't know how he'll take to a tether, but he must or he might crush something important," Megumi called after Sano as he promptly shinnied up the nearest tree and began leaping from one to another toward where he had left his horse, as if he were ten years old and not thirty-four.

Soon the grove became still again, though Megumi could still hear the feeble echoes of Sanosuke crashing gleefully through the far brush.  She gave up trying to fight the smile off her face as she knelt to pick dark green leafy sprigs from a low shrub half hidden in the undergrowth.  She brought the broken end to her nose, and the sweet, heady green scent refreshed her senses more than the chill breeze that was blowing.

She was aware of the need to return as soon as she could, if only to soothe her conscience which was already harping on the impetuousness with which she had joined Sanosuke.  But gathering herbs in the wild was a pastime she had not indulged in in many years, since her work took up most of her time in Aizu and the hospital garden furnished most of the plants she used.  The fresh, bright smell of wild rosemary was somehow different from that of rosemary from the earth of the town; and it brought to mind happy afternoons of her childhood—of eagerly dogging her parents' steps as they picked medicinal plants in the fragrant Aizu country and patiently answered her endless questions, of tagging along after her older brothers as they proudly pointed to herb after herb and rattled off the parts used, the benefits and dangers, the indications, the method of treatment, until she was openmouthed with little-sisterly admiration.

She was so absorbed in her memories that it took her some moments before she belatedly realized that Sanosuke had returned and was watching her gravely from between two trees.  Several leather pouches, tied with twine and feathers, hung from a strap looped around his shoulder and waist.

In response to an inexplicable impulse, she quickly uncurved the wistful smile on her face, giving him instead a withering glance.  "Don't you know it's rude to stare at people like that?"

 "Just enjoying the view."

She shot him another disgusted look.  "We're too old for those games now, toriatama.  Maybe you haven't felt it, but—"

She caught herself, indignant color flaring across her pale cheeks.  As she averted her eyes, back to the herbs she had been gathering, he calmly finished for her:  "But fifteen years have passed?"

 "Hai.  Anyone can see that.  Except maybe you."

She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Sanosuke raise his eyebrows at the bitterness in her tone.  She cursed herself for loosening her rein on her emotions, knowing that unwelcome questions would then be inevitable.

 "I do know it's been fifteen years, kitsune.  For one thing, I can hold my temper a lot better now."

Megumi relaxed into a smile at that.  Judging from his even, almost casual tones, he was right.  One side of his mouth lifted in half of a grin, Sanosuke tossed her the strap of pouches and she caught it skillfully.

"I suppose that _would_ take a brute like you that long to learn," she sniffed, stopping a moment to eye the bright green moss furring a high branch before dismissing it as nonmedicinal and moving on.

 "Now who's not too old to play games?"  Picking a stalk of grass to chew on, Sanosuke swung himself into a stumpy, sturdy tree and stretched out luxuriously into the pocket of its lower branches.

 "One other thing you've picked up, toriatama?  You seem to have learned how to fight with words, not just fists."  Megumi had intended it as a compliment, but she realized, as it left her lips, that it sounded more like another insult.

 "Kuso, kitsune-onna, you make a man want to disappear again for another fifteen years," growled Sano.

An unexpected, unfamiliar frailty seemed to wash over Megumi, and for a moment she caught herself on a thick treetrunk; but then she forced herself back to her feet, scoffing her own sentimentality.  Quickly she glanced up at him, but he was lounging back against the branches with eyes shut and face relaxed, as though his last statement was truly no more than a careless joke.

Silently tucking her gathered plants into the pouches, Megumi slowly made her way around the grove until she stood at the foot of Sanosuke's roost.

 "Do you think you will?"

There, she'd said it.  _I'll never say anything about that again,_ Megumi told herself firmly.  She forced herself to look up, to meet Sanosuke's startled gaze.  Every second that she didn't look away and pretend she had said nothing at all was a hard-won triumph against her formidable pride.

_Triumph of what?_ came the sly, unbidden question.  And then _Hush,_ she told herself sternly, before one particular word could set her heart beating uncharacteristically fast again.  When Sanosuke, after an eternity, finally looked away, she felt her knees weaken with relief.

 "Why do you ask?"

Megumi knew him better than to believe the breezy nonchalance in his voice.  And he probably knew better than to believe it in hers.

 "Well, I don't think I could blame you if you did."  She crouched to inspect a feathery head of dark purple flowers.  "After the excitement of wandering the whole world, I can't imagine you, of all people, settling into a steady life in boring, hidebound old Japan."  With a sudden afterthought, she laughed her fox's laugh.  "And getting a _job!_"  Still shaking her head, she bent to probe among the broad carpeting leaves of a ground vine.

"Hey, you don't survive so long from home without learning a thing or two," growled Sanosuke.  "I can too get a job.  I've tried a whole bunch of different things, kitsune—" His tone shifted, turned both dreamy and amused.  "Cattle ranchin', sheep farmin'.  Most o' the time I hired myself out as bodyguard.  Sometimes when things got really hard, I helped out loadin' at the docks."  He paused, then added quietly, "I drove a carriage in New York for a couple months 'bout four years back."

Megumi smiled, not really paying attention.  "Four years ago?  I'm amazed you can still remember..."  She trailed off as his words finally registered with her.

 "There was a convention that time, in this classy hotel," murmured Sano absent-mindedly.  Megumi, who was staring fixedly into space, didn't see him toying with a sprig of small oblong leaves that folded in on themselves at his light touch.  "There was a whole bunch of us drivers waitin' outside, knowin' we'd be needed.  Five nights straight we stayed outside waitin'.  That way I picked up most of my English from those fellows.  We'd compete to take home the folks from the convention..."

Megumi turned abruptly away, tried to absorb herself in digging up roots.  "What hotel?"

Sanosuke gave a familiar name so promptly Megumi's heart didn't know whether to leap or sink.

 "That was around... September."  Sano's voice was distant, as though caught up in the far-off memory.

Megumi said nothing for several minutes, and Sano was likewise silent as she tied back her sleeves and vigorously unearthed several bulbous, coarse-skinned roots, not caring about soiling her hands in her determination to evade the sensitive topic of conversation.

She immediately forgot it as she stared in distress down at the precious rhizomes, remembering then that she'd left her knife and other herb-gathering instruments at the dojo.  Leaves, flowers, and whole sprigs could be broken cleanly, but brute force would only damage the roots she wanted.

 "I'll never do something so spontaneous again," Megumi muttered to herself in annoyance.

Something heavy thumped at her feet, startling her.  It was a sheath of dark wood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl in neat geometric patterns.  Megumi picked up the handsome object and pulled out a tantou whose blade flashed in the dappled sunlight.

 "Looks a lot better than that old one I took from you, ne?"

 "Very elegant.  I didn't know you went in for throwing weapons now."

 "Megitsune."  His tone was exasperated.  "Anyone ever tell ya you got a lousy way of showin' gratitude?"

Megumi smiled sheepishly, realizing that at thirty-seven years of age, she could hardly resent this embarrassing statement of truth.  "Gomen ne, toriatama.  I've been mean.  Thank you for your gift.  But if you intend for me to pull up plants with this, then I refuse to defile such a lovely blade with such a menial task."  She smiled silent thanks up at him as she sheathed the tantou.  "Even if a salve made from honey and this powdered root _is_ a really good antiseptic."

 "Well, if I'd just known you needed gardening tools instead of small arms," said Sanosuke, scratching his head and obviously trying not to look too pleased.  Leaping out of the tree and landing before her with suprising lightness, he held out his hand.  When she gave him the knife, he unsheathed it and, without a moment's hesitation, began to loosen the soil around the root with the blade.

 "It _is_ your gift, but it's a shame to dull that blade," murmured Megumi, hovering anxiously, not sure whether she was more concerned about his misuse of the weapon or the risk of his damaging the valuable roots.

 "'Sallright.  It's for a worthy cause.  I'll just sharpen it up again."  And Sanosuke, having cleared the earth away from the roots, shook the blade free of dirt and held it out again to her.  "All set, sensei."

 "Sharpen it?"  Megumi cut at the roots with a practiced hand, soon placing bulb after shiny bulb into a pouch.  "You never did something so useful before when you were here.  Did you pick that up from another job?"

Sano chuckled.  "Actually, yes.  This guy I helped out for a while gave me that blade—this Chinese swordsmith who knew all about Japanese weapons.  Told him all about you, and he said someone like you had to have somethin' for protection."

Megumi smiled, but only briefly as she realized with dismay that they had somehow returned to the subject of his past occupations.

"There's a whole bunch of other plants like that over here."  Sanosuke, who had strayed to a different area of the grove, waved his hand vaguely.  "Should I dig 'em up too?"

 "I'd appreciate the help."  Megumi hurried over, having replaced the stirred soil, and glad that Sano seemed to have forgotten the matter of carriage-driving in New York entirely.

Over the next few hours, as they roamed the expanse of the grassy hill, she deftly steered the conversation well clear of the past.  Instead she kept up a commentary on the medicinal properties of the flowers and leaves she frequently stopped to cull.  In turn he told her of the herbs and roots he had seen used in other lands—a dark, stubby, cloven desert root from Africa that was powerful against arthritis, small pink flowers in Madagascar used to combat diabetes.  She listened avidly, making mental notes one after another to inform her colleagues in her next letter.

 "I'm glad to see herbalism hasn't completely disappeared," she told him as they finally headed down the hill toward Fuuko.  The horse had raised its head from grazing at the sight of its master approaching.  "German medicine is the most advanced in the world yet, and everyone's training in its methods.  But I think because of its focus on chemicals and technology, Japanese doctors are now ignoring the herb lore that we've developed and survived on for thousands of years."

 "It's the whole Meiji spirit."  Sanosuke's tone was dark, as though his old enmity for the restored government had not faded with time.  "We're turning our backs on our own culture trying to embrace all these foreign influences."

 "Have you been talking to your old friend Tsukioka?" Megumi asked slyly as he whistled for Fuuko to trot over.

Sano's eyes were filled with mock hurt as he glanced at her.  "I keep in touch, you know."  He swung easily into the saddle and grinned.  "You gonna make me ride bareback again?  Or is the onna-sensei not too delicate to share a saddle with an itinerant brute?"

She ignored his outstretched hand and nimbly mounted, with a grace she found rewarded with the admiration in his eyes.  As she secured her heavy pouches over her shoulder, he urged Fuuko forward at a lazy pace.  It was near midday, but misty gray clouds had come to blot out the sunlight.

 "You ride in Aizu?"

 "Sometimes.  I prefer it to riding in carriages when I visit patients out of town."  Megumi let her gaze drift across the peaceful countryside, trying not to notice how closely they sat together in the saddle.

 "Those too poor to come to your hospital, you mean."

 "How did you know?"  She turned her head to look at him in surprise and soon regretted it.  His height had her staring at his broad, well-muscled, and partially exposed chest, and when she craned her neck to look up, his face was a scant five inches from hers.  "I only do it on my days off.  I don't tell the others," she added, hastily turning away.

He was either unaware of her discomfort or enjoying it without a word; Megumi thought dryly that she'd bet on the latter.  "Not even Keitaro-sensei?"

Again Megumi found herself stiffening with a displeasure she didn't much care to conceal.  "Yamada Keitaro-_sensei"_—her voice rose slightly with the formal title—"left the hospital and my company three years ago.  I believe he's already established himself as director of a large hospital somewhere in Niigata.  However, I may be mistaken, as it doesn't really concern me."

Sano's short laugh added to her irritation.  "And that's the end of it, ne?  The kitsune's claws dig deep."

 "I don't see that it's any of your business.  And anyhow, I can't imagine how you ever got wind of—"  And Megumi broke off as her imagination _did_ suddenly work.

 "You two looked cozy enough in New York, but I gotta admit my news is hopelessly out of date."  He tugged at the reins with a strange half-smile on his face that annoyed and flustered Megumi at the same time.  She turned and stared fixedly at the horizon over the horse's proudly raised head, wishing Sano had never brought up the current topic.

 "He was kind enough," she said at last, when seeming eons of uneasy silence had crawled past.  "And ambitious."

Sano said nothing, merely spit out the stalk of grass he had been chewing.

 "He only wanted the connection to Sanada-sensei—to the owner and director of the hospital, who's always been a friend of my family."  Megumi spoke slowly, torn between a growing unease with sharing such unnecessary information, and a strong but inexplicable urge to fill him in on a past affair gone sour.  "When I found him out, he was at least still gentleman enough to leave my sight the moment he could."

"Sumanu."  Sanosuke's low voice had lost its earlier humor.  "You're right, Megitsune, it _is_ none of my business."

 "Shall we talk of other things, then?" she asked lightly, after another long, awkward pause.  "Your letters were very interesting, toriatama."

 "Che—you read 'em already?"  Sanosuke scratched at his head, smiling ruefully, avoiding the shrewd gaze she turned to give him.  "I didn't know if I should give 'em to you, since they're really old shit, but after luggin' 'em around for so long and takin' so much care of 'em I didn't feel I should burn 'em anymore, so..."

 "I'm glad you didn't."  Megumi, noting his growing embarrassment, mercifully interrupted his rambling with a tone that surprised even her with its gentleness.  "It's a shame you didn't send them.  All of us here at home were wondering what had happened to you."

 "Kept forgettin'."  Sano appeared to be concentrating unusually hard on the reins.  "Just kept puttin' them away, and before I knew it I had more of 'em than I knew what to do with.  More'n once I thought of usin' 'em as fuel, but somehow it never got around to that."

 "I was thinking you should read them to Kaoru-chan," Megumi replied lightly, reaching out to graze a birch's mottled bark with her fingertips as they passed; Fuuko's quick pace had brought them back into the wooded areas on the Tokyo outskirts.  "When a patient is in a condition like hers, it seems to help to talk to them, as normally as though they weren't sick at all.  And Kaoru-chan would love to hear all about your travels."

"If you say so."

Megumi laughed at the uncertainty in his voice.  "Trust me.  I'm sure she wishes she could talk to you herself."  Megumi fell silent for a while as her thoughts grew more solemn, drawn back to the younger woman who had not woken from her sleep for almost a week.  Then, suddenly, she remembered the question she had originally had in mind.

 "What happened in those other years?"

 "Other years?"

 "Toriatama, you can't play dumb to save your life.  You just either are or aren't."  Megumi punctuated her comment with a tweak on his ear.  "You know what I mean.  Those letters stop four years ago."

He groaned.  "Megitsune, it's lunchtime, I'm hungry, and we're almost at the dojo where Yahiko-_chan_'s probably borrowed and reversed Kenji's sakabatou to carve out my guts.  Could we save the profound introspective conversation for later?"

And before Megumi channel her various mixed feelings into a heated reply, he had spurred the horse into a swift trot that grew faster every moment, and as the dojo buildings came into view through the trees she decided to simply brace herself for another display of Fuuko's exhilarating fence-hurdling skill.  The answers she wanted, she thought as she tensely clutched her pouches about her, would have to tantalize her a little longer.

~ tsuzuku ~

**A/N.**  Whew!  A chapter slightly longer than the others.  Had a heckuvatime groping for a decent chapter title, and was finally inspired by a couple of _Kareshi Kanoji no Jijyo _(the delectable _His and Her Circumstances _by Anno Hideaki) episodes. ^.^

I apologize in advance for any deficiencies in the way I handled the situation here.  It's scary to write out a whole sequence of almost pure dialogue!  And one that needed to cover so many bases, I thought.  I don't want to bore you oh-so-patient readers with line after line of repartée, but... somehow I felt as though it couldn't be dispensed with at this particular point in the story.  Of course, if you guys feel there really is something off about the style of this chapter, I really will give it a good thrashing.  I aim to please de gozaru yo.

eriesalia-dono:  (sweatdrop) Erm, actually I did write the horse in happily intending it to be the Kaden horse indeed... but then on rereading the last chapter, it turns out I wrote that Fuuko had been given to Sano only about three years ago, so that wouldn't make him the Mongolian horse in Kaden, ne? @.@  Anyway, Fuuko here would probably not mind being the horse in the OAV, at least.  Oh, and I hope Megumi's been a bit more feisty in this installment...

eriesalia-dono also asked about a possible Kenji story.  The idea is truly tempting. @.@  I think at the moment there are two things holding me back, though:  (1) This is to be a Sano/Meg story, so as much as we'd like to see some Kenshin Jr. action, it'll have to wait; and (2) writing Kenji will I think be quite a daunting task.  The strength of RK fanfic (among others ^.^) is I believe the powerful characterization Watsuki-sama already did, saving us ff-writers a lot of mental effort.  But Kenji has been left so vaguely defined that, frankly, I'm a bit intimidated by the characterization he will need.  Maybe someday I or someone else will be up to snuff for that job. ^.^

Many many thanks for the reviews!  Aislinn6:  Tried my best not to let you down on the S/M tension in this one.  Sanoko, MiraiGurl, Purpo Kitee Katx, g3ozLizh, jerjonji, Maria Cline, Mysti-chan:  Very late gratitude for your very kind comments!  But it's better late than never, I hope. ^.^

A trivial note about clothing:  Sano in the OAV and in the Kaden appears to be dressed in the _same old, same old _white clothes, only with a sort of cape.  But I'm hiding behind my computer now and protesting that, c'mon, give the guy some new _duds_ once every decade or so! ^.^


	10. Tsuyoku Naritai

glossary:

ora ora = all-purpose Sanoism: frustration, sarcasm, etc.

sugoi = cool!

kempo = a style of fighting employing lots of kicking and punching; Aoshi taught this to Hannya ^.^

ki = spirit; also, more loosely, the battle-aura of a warrior that can indicate his next move in a fight ^.^

hawatari = "passing through the blade" (bottomless thanks to that old great, RK Archive—your memory is evergreen in my heart~); a technique of stopping an attacking blade with your own hands and then counterattacking.  The Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu succession technique ^.^

gambatte = Good luck!  Do your best!

ougi = succession technique; the ultimate technique in a martial arts school that, once mastered, makes you a, um, master of that school. ^.^

kenkaku = fighter

ja = (among other meanings) well then...

itsu mo no you ni = like always...

demo = but

shihandai = adjutant master.  I don't know if Kaoru was ever "promoted" past this level, but at the beginning of RK (and after her father died), she held this rank.

gomen ne = sorry...

onegai = please

kenki = "spirit of the sword," or battle aura. See "ki".

---

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Nine:  Tsuyoku Naritai 

Twilight settled on the dojo amidst a soft, sleepy chorus of crickets.  Shouts of farewell echoed from the training hall and there was soon a massive pounding of many feet in several directions—toward the students' rooms upstairs, the baths in the outhouses, and the kitchen across the courtyard, where Tsubame with the servants was organizing dinner preparations.  Megumi, busily sketching formulas and reading notes in her room, squelched a smile as she paused in her work; she had long since given up trying to help with the evening meal, since Tsubame already had her hands full with her small army of assistants crowding in and out.

 "Ora ora!  Smells like a pharmacy in here, all right!"

And with that inelegant salutation, Sanosuke slid open the shoji facing the courtyard and peered in, apparently just returned from a trip to the Akabeko.  Megumi glanced up at him irritably from her work.

 "I don't recall asking you to smell anything around here, or even breathe," she said calmly.  Then she raised an eyebrow and looked more closely at the rumpled hair that brushed the neat bunches of herbs dangling from the ceiling to dry.  "Why, toriatama, I see you've finally decided to reclaim your title."

Sano shrugged, but his broad grin belied all pretense at nonchalance.  "Gets in the way in a fight."

And Megumi chuckled, remembering the scene of that early afternoon.

Yahiko, resting after his lunch, had furiously collared Sanosuke the moment the older man had set foot again on the dojo grounds, and the students were treated right then and there to a fearsome display of Yahiko's Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu and Sano's assorted barehanded techniques.  It had been Megumi's first time to see the tremendous advancement in skill, strength, and speed the two fighters had made over the last fifteen years.  Her mouth had actually dropped open at the first pass, when Yahiko's lightning-fast attack was neatly dodged at the last moment by Sano, whose fist then arced toward his opponent's open side and would have connected with ribs had Yahiko not spun with his bokken in a wicked swing that was, however, ultimately evaded.  The awed students soon hushed, except for one older boy near Megumi who kept up an enthusiastic, running analysis of the two warriors' moves to an awestruck younger companion.

 "Sugoi!  The centrifugal force triples the force... but the roosterhead's too fast for him, and—eh!  What a kick!  That didn't look like kempo though—wish I had flexibility like that!  But sensei's on to him now, and see, the look in his eyes—he's trying to read the roosterhead's next move.  I'm nowhere as good as sensei, but the roosterhead's hiding his ki really well.  Sensei can't use his signature moves 'cause his opponent's unarmed.  But—ah!  First move!  Sensei's so brave—kuso!  Did you see that?!  A hawatari—haa~! Gambatte sensei!  That was almost as good as our ougi; the roosterhead's at an advantage.  But of course sensei knows how to counter that..."

It had all ended in a matter of seconds, though Megumi felt the fight had lasted far longer.  The dust had settled to reveal a couple of very tired kenkaku lying flat on the ground, eyes closed, huge grins spread across their sun-browned faces.

 "You almost sprained my wrist, Yahiko-_chan_."

 "Serves you right.  My head's still ringin'."

 "Not my fault this stupid hair gets in my face."

 "You're right, it _is_ stupid hair."

They would have resumed fighting at that point, except that Yutarou had arrived for his afternoon class and hastily broken up the impending battle before his dainty heiress of a fiancée fainted dead away in shock at such naked violence.  Megumi, grumbling loudly about wasting her time on two fighting idiots when she could be continuing her research, had seen to the more serious of their injuries before sending them away.  The two then promptly inhaled a hearty lunch Tsubame whipped up with godlike speed; and even though Yahiko had eaten just before the fight, his appetite after it was fairly evenly matched with Sano's.  After a civil discussion of grass, seed, and the oncoming winter, Yahiko had retired to bear his bruises heroically in the eyes of his worshipful students, while Sanosuke had left to stable Fuuko at the Akabeko and retrieve the last of his luggage.

 "It was a man's fight.  Everything's settled now."  Sanosuke leaned against the doorway to Megumi's room with an air of satisfaction.

 "And I thought two full-grown _men_ like you would actually be able to meet again without drawing blood."  Megumi shook her head ruefully as she gathered her papers into a neat stack; the dinner bell was clanging.  "I was surprised you let him make contact at all, especially in front of all those students," she murmured, shutting the door to her room behind them and falling into step with him toward the dining hall.

Sanosuke grinned.  "I was surprised myself.  Yahiko was just a brat who wanted to be strong when I left.   Now he's still a brat, but Jou-chan knew a master when she saw one."

Megumi glanced at him, noting the open respect in his tone, but said nothing.  Privately she thought the new hairstyle—not quite as short or as energetically spiky as his old one—well suited to the serious, clear-eyed expression his fine-boned face had come to have after his travels.  _I suppose I'll have to find him a new nickname_.

It struck her then that the change in his appearance was somehow only one of several changes she had come to sense in him, and the first she had actually been able to name.  She brooded over it throughout dinner, saying little even after the trays had been cleared, tea was served, and Sanosuke began distributing his booty.  Megumi had felt the difference far sooner than she had been able to describe it.  She had had no time to think on it, but now that her research was very nearly complete, she allowed herself the indulgence of a meditative couple of hours while Sano unlatched trunks and unwrapped bundles before anintimate,  eager audience.

Yahiko got a bokken of exotic hardwood, whorled in yellow and dark brown and so perfectly balanced despite its density and weight that he spent several minutes going through his kata in the middle of the hall.  For Tsubame a great roll of beautiful sky-blue silk was unfurled, and the young woman subsided in a corner after stammering her thanks, fondly imagining one magnificent kimono after another.  Outa, who stopped by after dinner, received a dagger with a strangly curved blade and a hilt of intricately worked silver.  Kenji was well pleased with a sword guard beautifully wrought with a dragon.  Sanosuke set aside rolls of silvery silk for Kaoru and maroon silk for Tae, along with other gifts for their friends in Kyoto; and finally he laid before Megumi a small wooden box.

 "It ain't pruning shears," he said gruffly, his tone softened by a sheepish smile.

She held her tongue, unlocked the box, and gasped.  Inside, snug in crushed velvet under a paper covered in writing and illustrations, were various odd objects:  several knobs of different sizes, strangely-shaped pieces of metal and wood, a small round mirror, and two shiny round lenses.

 "A microscope!" was all that Megumi said, but the delight in her voice and the smile that she turned briefly to Sano before staring back down at her treasure spoke far more eloquently of her gratitude.

 "Thought you'd need it."  Sanosuke was relieved that this gift, at least, was not being ridiculed or doubted.  "Latest from Germany."

 "I can't assemble it tonight, but I'll put it together as soon as I can."  And Megumi prudently laid aside the precious box, after one last happy look at its contents.  The hospital had its own microscope, of course, but to have one for her very own made words impossible for a while.

The fuss over the presents lasted well into the evening; everyone wanted to know where and how Sanosuke had come by his gifts, and each item had story leading into story.  Having already read his letters, Megumi hardly listened, but let the rhythm and rapidly shifting humor of his words hum pleasantly past her as she watched him speak and tried, in the most scientifically systematic manner, to capture her thoughts before they could flee, place them in their proper categories, and label them like some sort of insect genus.

But her surreptitious, silent surveillance didn't last long after the exertions of the day, and she fell asleep just as Sano was concluding a thrilling account of how he'd taken on a real live tiger.  When Megumi awoke with a start, Yahiko and the others were just leaving the dining hall to Sanosuke, who sat in the open doorway smoking his pipe.

 "Kitsune's gettin' old and sleepy," teased Sanosuke past his pipe.

 "I wish you'd woken me.  I need to see to Kaoru-chan before I go to bed."  Sighing, Megumi stood up, carefully easing the stiffness in her back and neck.

 "You've only been asleep about half an hour.  All that excitement this morning must've tired you out."

 "Maybe you're right, I _am_ getting old."  Wistfully Megumi remembered the days of the Kenshingumi, when she could stay awake for days on end ministering to the needs of her friends whenever enemies old and new interrupted their quiet life.

Sanosuke was eyeing her with a smile that suggested he was recalling the same memories.  "Can't the little girl take over for one night?  You look like you could use the rest."

 "Iya, I'm fine.  I'll be wide awake in a moment."  Smoothing the wrinkles out of her kimono, Megumi headed out past Sanosuke, leaving him to smoke his pipe in silence and pick out constellations among the stars.

She had just arrived at Kaoru's room when Kenji emerged hastily from inside.  Megumi took one glance at the wide gray-blue eyes and hurried past him into the room.

 "Kaoru-chan?"  She knelt at the side of the bed where Kaoru was stirring feebly.  One thin hand lifted weakly from the blanket; Megumi quickly caught it, brushing back Kaoru's sweat-damp hair from her forehead.  Her eyes widened in surprise.

Kaoru's eyelids fluttered open, and eyes the color of the midnight sea came slowly into focus.  Megumi blinked away her gathering tears and beamed down at the younger woman, who smiled back faintly.

 "I..."  Her voice, so long unused, died in a rasp.  Kaoru, frowning, coughed and cleared her throat.  "I've been asleep so long, Megumi-san."

 "That's as it should be.  How are you feeling?"

 "I'm all right."  And Kaoru's smile was so peaceful Megumi was unsure whether to rejoice or grieve.  "The pain has subsided for now."

Megumi said nothing for several moments, merely frowned and pulled the blankets up more snugly around the younger woman, who watched her keenly.

 "There's something you want to talk about?"

Megumi sighed.  "You don't like sleeping," she said.  "Correct?"  At Kaoru's nod, she continued slowly, "There is a medicine that—that hasn't been tested yet.  But if the research holds true, there may be a way to fight the pain without sending you to sleep."

With the last word she finally raised her cinnamon eyes to meet Kaoru's.  A moment passed, and neither spoke.

 "The most likely disadvantage is that the medicine may not be as effective as the old one in numbing you to the pain," finished Megumi quietly.  There was little need to say more, and she saw in Kaoru's shadowed eyes that she knew it too.

 "Will it cost very much?"  Kaoru's tone was grave, her gaze steady.

Megumi shook her head.  "I can prepare everything myself, and I"—her voice faltered so briefly she found the lapse easy to ignore—"have access to inexpensive stores.  Yahiko will not be burdened.  Nor I," she added before Kaoru could respond, before she herself could think better of her decision.

Kaoru's feeble smile at that moment recalled her old customary cheer so vividly that Megumi had to look away, fiercely blinking back tears.  "Ja.  Arigatou, Megumi-san, itsu mo no you ni.  How soon will it be ready?"

 "Tomorrow morning, if you wish."

 "I might not wake again tomorrow," murmured Kaoru, so softly Megumi wondered if it had only been her own fearful thoughts whispering in her ears.  "Perhaps I should not take the old medicine tonight," she said more loudly.

Megumi frowned again.  "Demo, Kaoru-chan—"

 "I feel better than I have in weeks.  Maybe it was the long sleep."

 "Still, the pain may return—"

 "I don't think it will.  And if it does, I'll bear it."

Megumi found it difficult to argue with a patient whose smile was as stubborn as it was serene.  She sighed, returning a more rueful smile of her own.  "But if it does, Kaoru-chan, no more arguments.  I'll give you the old medicine.  Misao-chan will just have to—"  Gasping, Megumi caught herself.  Horrified, she snapped her mouth shut, but it was too late.

 "Misao-chan?  She'll visit?"  Kaoru's eyes glowed.

Megumi shook her head, cursing the weariness that had let down her guard.  "Hai, she'll be arriving tomorrow with Shinomori-san to spend the winter with us," she said in resignation.  "We received a letter from her the other day.  They do so want to see you."  _One last time._

 "It will be just like old times, then, all of us here at the dojo.  I haven't seen her since the spring."  At that, Megumi glanced at Kaoru, but her face was as clear and sunny as her voice.  "The new medicine tomorrow, then, Megumi-sensei.  And none of the old tonight.  I promise I will send Kenji the minute anything becomes beyond me," she said more soothingly, softening the firm tones of the dojo shihandai.

Megumi sighed and nodded.  "All right then.  If you say so."

Kaoru folded the doctor's slender hand in both her own thin ones and squeezed in mute apology, and Megumi's mouth relaxed into a weary grin.  "Gomen ne, Kaoru-chan.  I should really be more understanding of a will as stubborn as my own."

Kaoru's eyes disappeared into another cheerful smile.  "Daijoubu, Megumi-sensei.  You understand so much already."

For a moment emotion choked Megumi, and she could only shake her head.  Then, latching thankfully onto another topic before she completely lost control, she said gently, "Misao-chan isn't our first guest for the winter, Kaoru-chan."

 "Sagara-san."

 "Kenji.  I thought you'd gone to stay with your mother."  Sanosuke suppressed the shudder that threatened to run down his spine at that.  Many things had changed his Jou-chan in the years he was gone, and motherhood was one he found rather difficult to accept —for the fresh-faced girl with the indigo hair ribbon who would stay forever in his mind's eye most unmaternally pulverizing Yahiko with her bokken.

 "She's finally awakened.  Megumi-sensei is with her now."

 "Eh?  Well that's good to hear.  Can we go in and see her?"

 "Not for a while yet, I think.  They were talking quite seriously when I left."

Kenji sat down some distance away from him, leaning against another post, a solemn, distant joy curving his mouth into a dimly moonlit smile.  For several moments both were silent.

 "Where did you learn to fight like that, Sagara-san?"

Sano smiled.  "Ain't really got a style, kid.  Picked it up here and there.  Most of it I risked my life to learn."

 "Fear sharpens any student, perhaps?"

 "Prob'ly."  And Sano sat back against the wall, grinning around his pipe at the memories that drifted through his mind.  His grin faltered at Kenji's next question.

 "Would you spar with me?"

 "'Course not.  Wouldn't be any point to it."

 "Onegai.  I would like to learn."

At a glance, Sanosuke took in the boy's set mouth, his clear eyes.  "Like another boy so long ago," he said slowly, "you wish to be strong?"

Kenji made no response, merely continued to meet his gaze.  And at last, with great reluctance and a hollow, chilling sadness, Sanosuke conceded what he had sensed within the boy from the moment they had met—a powerful, wild kenki, kept in check only very tenuously, never dormant but only simmering, ready to blaze up again the moment Kenji chose to reject control.  And Sano knew that a student of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu would match no less than deadly force with such fierce and untamed will.  It had happened before.

 "We grow up looking at the back of the man who goes before us," he murmured, savoring the feel of words long asleep in his memory.  "Some of us see heroism and are inspired.  But you have seen abandonment, and felt betrayed."

The calm, even, almost respectful tone Sanosuke used struck Kenji even his temper instinctively flared; and as Kenji hesitated, the door to Kaoru's room opened and Megumi stepped out.  Even in the dim yellow light from the braziers inside the room, Sanosuke could see gray circles beneath her downcast eyes, the normally straight shoulders slumped beneath the layers of silk.

 "How is she, sensei?" asked Kenji as Megumi approached, her pace uncharacteristically slow.

The smile she turned on them, however, was gentle.  "Your mother is fine.  She will have no treatment tonight, but you should take in to her some tea and food."

Kenji left immediately for the kitchen as Megumi sank wearily into a seat on the engawa.

 "You should go on to bed," said Sano gruffly.  "You've had enough excitement for one day."

 "It wasn't the ride that tired me out."  Megumi fidgeted with the sleeves of her kimono.  "Kaoru-chan... refused medicine tonight.  She says she wants to be awake tomorrow when Misao-chan arrives."

 "That's good, right?"  Sanosuke watched her solicitously.

Megumi shook her head.  "I warned her that the pain may well return.  But she said she would endure it, and would hear no more from me."

 "You ever known Jou-chan to change her mind once she's set it on something?"  Sano chuckled.

Megumi's answering grin was faint and short-lived.  "She gave me leave to give her a new treatment I've developed beginning tomorrow.  I told her it's never been tested yet, and though it will keep her from sleeping it may be less successful in killing the pain, but... she doesn't like to sleep through the days any more."

Sano paused, unsure as to how to phrase his response.  "And we all know... the worst that can happen."

Megumi nodded wordlessly.

 "Is she still awake?"

 "Yes.  She wants to speak with you."

Sanosuke grinned.  "Che, I was hoping I'd surprise her.  Oei, Kenji.  Quit skulking in the shadows like a shy little waitress and bring out that tea.  I'll take over with Jou-chan tonight."  As Kenji approached, the color high in his cheeks at being found but looking rebellious, Sano added sternly, "You need the rest, kid.  It'll do you more harm than good to keep missin' nights  like you have."

Kenji silently surrendered his tray to Sanosuke, who balanced it easily on one hand and then laid the other on the boy's shoulder.  "And as long as you can stay up tonight, think on the true meaning of strength.  It's not always what a young fighting idiot believes it is."

Sanosuke's voice was so low Megumi had to strain to catch the words.  But Kenji seemed to have had no difficulty hearing; eyes lowered, he nodded silently and, when Sano let go of him, turned and walked soundlessly off toward his room.

 "What was that all about?" asked Megumi curiously, then stifled a yawn.

Sano grinned.  "From one strong and hardheaded dolt to another.  I'm just repayin' my debts.  Now go to bed, kitsune, before I carry you."

At that, Megumi rose hastily to her feet, and insisting on his not keeping Kaoru up too late and informing her in case of any recurring pain or unusual behavior, padded away no longer bothering to suppress her yawns.  Sanosuke stared after her, nursing the last of his tobacco, until her tall, slender figure had vanished into her room down the corridor.

Then, having emptied his pipe into the bushes, he went away in the other direction armed with his tray of food and drink, hoping that change had not been so cruel to his fresh-faced Jou-chan as to taint her happy smile.

~ tsuzuku ~

**A/N.**  Another comparatively long chapter.  Mou, I'm a bit unhappy about the way this installment turned out... T.T  I needed a transition, and I thought there _had_ to be a gift-giving part in here somewhere, and Sano's procrastinated enough... but I'm inclined to think that this "divided" chapter (the 1st half about something, the 2nd half about something (someone) else entirely) is not at all good writing... T.T  Gomen nasai!  Tips for improvement anxiously solicited!!

eriesalia-dono asked about Misao-chan and the others... well here they are!  (Or here they almost are...)  I really did intend to bring them in; it would certainly be OOC for Misao and the other Kenshingumi (Kyoto branch) to be absent at this very important stage in their lives.  I'm still not quite sure what I'll do with them though...

Sigh.  How can I possibly concentrate on school when it's just so much more fun to keep at this story?!? ^.^


	11. To Await the Sun

glossary:

engawa = the porch like structure running around the rooms facing out to the yard

futon = fluffy mattress for sleeping, laid out on the floor at bedtime and hidden away in the morning

Gatotsu = Saitou's signature style ^.^

hen = strange, odd

Kami = God

kanji = originally Chinese characters used in Japanese writing

onigiri = densely packed balls or triangles of freshly cooked rice, eaten plain or with various fillings

soshite = and, and then

wakaranai = "I don't know/understand," informal form

yo = an ending particle to add emphasis

yukata = light cotton kimono for around the house or during summer

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Ten:  To Await the Sun

Megumi woke in the dim, sluggish gray of very early morning, her mind barely registering the heavy warmth of her blanket before it was full of thoughts of the day ahead.  There was much yet to be done to prepare Kaoru's treatment.  Planning the work that lay before her, she allowed herself only a few more minutes of comfort before resolutely pushing off her sheets, shivering in the onslaught of cold.  Winter, it seemed, had come early this year.  After dressing and storing away her futon, she headed to the kitchen for some hot tea to get the day started.

She put water on to heat and rice to boil.  She was idly standing in the courtyard, basking in the calm stillness of a city in slumber, when she noticed that the shoji to Kaoru's room stood open.

Swiftly she stalked across the yard, preparing a searing lecture for Sanosuke for allowing a draft into Kaoru's room, particularly at this time of year.  The words were already hot and eager on her tongue when she saw that the figure sitting just inside the doorway, bundled into a blanket and quietly gazing out, was Kaoru, not Sano.  At the cheerful smile of greeting the younger woman gave her, Megumi skidded to a halt, deflated.

 "Ohayou, Megumi-san."

 "Ohayou," returned Megumi mechanically.  Then she remembered herself.  "Kaoru-chan, what on earth are you doing out of bed?  You should be resting!  Sanosuke—"

 "Sano is asleep." Kaoru, her smile now amused, nodded inside where Sanosuke sat up against the wall snoring contentedly, one hand splayed across papers scattered around him as if laying them down had been his last waking act.

Megumi sighed with mingled relief and embarrassment.  She had underestimated the toriatama again.  "What are you doing up so early?  Has his snoring kept you awake?" she asked with mock sternness, her hands on her hips.

Kaoru's soft chuckle sounded to Megumi much like the old, robust, girlish Kaoru.  "No more than usual.  Please don't scold, Megumi-san.  He was reading his letters to me when he fell asleep, and I hadn't the heart to wake him.  I've been up all night and haven't felt sleepy at all myself."

Megumi frowned, more for show than out of any real disapproval.  "All the same, you shouldn't tire yourself out.  How are you feeling this morning, Kaoru-chan?"

 "A little weak, but that's all.  There isn't any pain."

Kaoru's meek tones satisfied Megumi's anxiety, but she was not about to let the younger woman off so easily.  "Did you open this?"  And with a brisk nod of her head, Megumi indicated the shoji.

 "Hai.  It took me some time, but then I haven't seen outside in so long."  Kaoru's gaze wandered the gray-steeped scene before her, smiling wistfully as though taking inordinate pleasure in the naked trees, withered grass, and unswept yard.  The look in her shadowed eyes was so hungry that Megumi felt her throat tighten.

 "I'll bring you some tea," she murmured hastily.  Without waiting for a response, she turned and hurried back to the kitchen before the emotion rising rapidly within her found their release in tears, hysterical laughter, or both.

When she returned with a tray of tea and some onigiri, Kaoru was still sitting huddled in her thick blanket, staring vaguely out at the yard as if lost in thought.  She did not look up as Megumi hesitantly approached, and the doctor silently observed her over the teapot.

Kaoru had been shockingly thin when Megumi had first arrived from Aizu in the spring, but then she had steadily lost even more weight in the past months.  Several weeks in bed had then softened her already unnaturally malleable skin.  Even in the gray half-light, Megumi noted the ghostly pallor that made Kaoru's thin cheeks seem almost translucent and aged her face beyond her thirty-two years.  That and the quiet, unfocused look in her deep blue eyes as she gazed outside sent a current of fear and sorrow through Megumi.

 "You should eat, Kaoru-chan."  Tucking away her worry before it could get the best of her, Megumi flashed her brightest smile as she set the tray down on the engawa.  "And I made you some special tea to help strengthen you."

 "Arigatou, Megumi-san.  Your onigiri is always just right."  Kaoru smiled back as she picked up a piece and took a small bite.

 "The rice Taida-sensei sent is very good, that's all.  Now try to finish all of it while I take care of things in here."

Leaving her to chew diligently, Megumi entered Kaoru's room.  Her plans for the day were being delayed further with every moment she lingered, but—as she reasoned to herself—Kaoru awake was now such a precious event that she could afford to postpone her duties a little longer.

She rolled the futon and laid it by the door to the hall for cleaning, then brought out a newly cleaned one from the closet.  For a few minutes she puttered around the room, setting things straight, opening the window a fraction to clear the air inside.  At last she turned to where Sano was still snoring blissfully.  _By the time he wakes up, he'll have a crick in his neck worse than a dozen Gatotsu._

She knelt to pick up the scattered papers at his side, intending to arrange them neatly and lay them aside for him to find when he awoke.  But as she gathered the first few fallen pages, a set of familiar characters leaped out at her from the sea of other black-inked characters.  Her name, at the top of a page, and across from it a date, four years earlier.

Megumi stopped, staring at the kanji that formed her name for long moments.  As she glanced down the rest of the page, she found it was part of a letter.  Quickly scanning the other few pages she had in her hand, she found they, too, were letters addressed to her.  The first page she had picked up was dated November 1889; the last letter she had read had been dated in the summer of that same year.  As she satisfied herself with one last, furtive glance that Sano was still asleep, she skimmed the letter in her hand, finding the typically helter-skelter writing unusually subdued.

_Megitsune,_

_Hen ne...  That time in New York was the first I'd ever seen any of you from home again, and hell, that was a shock. Guess that's why I've found it pretty hard to write for a while.  I only saw you a coupla seconds, but I can still remember perfectly._

_I don't know why you put your hair up like that—all fancy 'n' stuff—and okay, it looked damn good on ya, but you looked worlds away from the old kitsune-onna I used to know.  Guess you put it up to look more like your age or something.  Don't want the old pervert geezer docs hangin' around ya.  But maybe that Keitaro guy you kept hangin' on to coulda taken care of 'em for ya.  He looked like a real arrogant (basta) (jerk) guy to me.  Hope he's takin' care of you right, while I can't._

_I say "strange" 'cause... well, maybe I just didn't figure you'd change in all the time I was gone.  Stupid, I know.  Bein' a bonehead again I guess.  But I guess at the back of my mind, even while I was travelin' around so much for so long, I always kinda thought I could still just go back any minute and everything would be just the same as how I left it.  Sometimes it was all that kept me goin', like when I was lost in the desert again or stuck in those damn jungles in Kami-knows-where—just the thought of all of us crazy Kenshingumi bein' back together again at the end of it all like nothing ever happened._

_It's kinda weird to keep thinkin' like that for a good eleven years straight, and then all of a sudden seein' _you_, of all people, a bit older but not much lookin' like it, actin' like the real career lady you always shoulda been, hair up and hangin' on to some lucky (bastard) guy's arm like I never saw ya do before.  Guess you didn't see the crazy cab driver who all of a sudden just whipped up his horses and left without takin' on a single passenger.  But it sorta freaked me out—just like that, a kind of dream you've been livin' on for years and years just blows apart._

 'Course, it was crazy anyhow to even have that kind of far-out dream.   But somehow, without really thinkin' about it, I lived on it for so long—that vision of you smilin' and all, with your pretty hair down all around your face like it's always been (did he make you put it up?), and maybe—this was me bein' really crazy-lonely sometimes, when the world just seemed so big it sort of got to me—just maybe, even takin' my hand.  Sentimental bull like that.  Guess I forgot you had your own life an' all, while I went off without a care in my stupid head, and now this lucky guy's got you, and all I have left is a whole lot of really old paper just goin' to rot...

Hastily Megumi laid down the papers, heat pulsing in her cheeks, glancing away from Sano's sleeping face in a rare fit of shyness.  She had wondered, fleetingly, when Kaoru had mentioned Sanosuke reading letters; all the letters he had given Megumi to read were still with her.  The previous morning, Sano had evaded her questions about the four-year gap in his messages—though whether he had done so intentionally or not, she couldn't say.  She now had a fairly good idea why it could have been deliberate.

She left the papers scattered on the floor, feeling like a child caught doing mischief.  She said nothing as she sat beside Kaoru and sipped her tea, trying to calm her fluttering insides with the warm, bitter liquid and distract herself with thoughts of work.  Kaoru did not seem to mind her sudden, wordless companionship, merely gave her a quick, keen look before staring out once again.  The leaden gray was gradually lifting with the first rosy hints of sunrise.  Various soft sounds indicated that birds and people were just beginning to stir.

 "I'm glad Sano and I had a chance to talk again."  Kaoru's placid voice neatly cut into the quiet.  "I didn't tell anyone, but I was afraid I really wouldn't see him again.  He said the letter that brought him came from you, Megumi-san."

At that moment, Megumi passionately wished to hear no more of letters; but she forced herself to smile.  "I just felt I should remind him that other people hadn't all the time in the world the way he did," she said hesitantly, unsure of Kaoru's reaction, much relieved when Kaoru appeared nothing but pleased.

 "I'm glad he came back, then.  It was never quite the same after he left.  Yahiko tried his best, and Kenji-chan was Kenji-chan, but it was still too quiet around the dojo for a long time."  Kaoru poured herself another cup of tea.  "Shinta never said much, but he kept wondering about Sano.  I always said I wanted him to come back.  And Shinta always told me not to be surprised if he didn't."

Megumi, not for the first time, noticed the happy, proud tone Kaoru unconsciously adopted whenever that name left her lips.  It was as if she and she alone owned the name, owned the right to say it—and it was as if she knew it.  And though Megumi's pride and innate reserve would not allow her to openly admit it, she conceded Kaoru's possession of that fragile, long-unused name with the same admiration with which she conceded the younger woman's modest strength that helped her endure her illness, the steady trust that transcended a doom growing ever nearer.

 "Aren't you glad he came back too, Megumi-san?"

Megumi arched a well-practiced eyebrow at the question.  "All right, I suppose," she said brusquely after a moment's uncertainty.  "It's like him to arrive just as the story's about to end, and I must say I wouldn't be surprised if he vanished again right in the middle of the epilogue, so to speak.  After fifteen years of wandering, I shouldn't wonder if it chafes him now to stay in one place for more than a week."

Kaoru smiled gravely.  "Well, he's staying for another few months, at least.  He gave me his word last night."

Megumi shrugged, looking away and wishing the indifference in her tone were sincere.  "After which he'll disappear again and never come back this time, I suppose."

Kaoru chuckled.  "Maybe.  But haven't you noticed, Megumi-san, that that's kind of how we all work?  The five of us, Shinta and you and me and Sano and Yahiko, for as long as we've known one another, we've lived by months, not lifetimes.  To think that Sano wasn't in our lives even for a full year before he left.  Nor were you, before you moved to Aizu.  But now, it seems we're still together after all.  The ties have been loosened just enough for us to roam, but we haven't cut them yet.  It seems we'll be separated again soon, but we'll meet up again for sure."

Kaoru's eyes were shut, her head bowed, smiling down at her teacup as though it held some great, wise secret nestled warmly in her hands.  Megumi, glancing at her from the corner of her eye, felt suddenly that the younger woman was in fact older than her, and was passing forever beyond her reach even in these slow, pensive moments.  Eyeing Kaoru wistfully, Megumi wondered—was it the impeccable certainty in her soft voice?  Or the smile, once bright with all-too-human optimism, now more quietly aglow with visions of some otherworldly plane that a firmly grounded mortal could only envy?

 "Kaoru-chan.  How do you bear it?"

Megumi was more startled than Kaoru looked at the question that slipped out.  Megumi was little used to thoughts passing whole and unrefined into words; she was more accustomed to elaborate care with even the most ordinary speech that everyday politics demanded.   But as she looked at Kaoru, Megumi felt some of her hardest reservations fall away; for to someone so definitely bound by time, honesty seemed more important than the most tactful deception, the most clever subtlety.

Kaoru blushed slightly, shaking her head.  "No better than anyone would in my circumstances, I think, Megumi-san." 

 "I don't know if I could do it half as quietly as you're doing now.  I wouldn't be able to just stay and wait."  With a rueful smile Megumi swirled the tea in her cup.  "I'd keep moving around till I really couldn't leave my bed, and then I'd probably rail at the fates for the rest of my days and make my caretakers' lives absolutely miserable."

 "Well, that'd be part of you, and we'd love you for it just as much as we love you for all the rest of you."

Her voice as she laid her head against Megumi's shoulder was bright with a cheerful obstinacy.  Megumi, after regarding the black head on her pale blue kimono for a startled moment, could only laugh.

 "You have always been so kind, Kaoru-chan."  And Megumi knew, even as she spoke, that hers was no longer the sharp voice of the artful, mischievous kitsune.  Instead, her tone was softened with a rare gentleness and the humility that simple, honest admiration demanded.  Somewhat hesitantly—this was something she had hardly ever done in the last near-twenty years—she placed an arm around Kaoru; and when the younger woman chuckled and patted her hand, Megumi soothingly rubbed Kaoru's shoulder through her yukata, trying not to notice how thin and bony the frail body felt underneath the cloth.

For some minutes the two sat silently together, the ill younger woman embraced protectively by the strong older one, watching as the first bright rays streaked cheerily through the steadily lightening sky.  On the other side of the dojo, the varied sounds of servants and students were beginning to fill the air.

 "Perhaps it's also easier for me," murmured Kaoru presently, setting aside her half-filled cup, "knowing that just as I'm not making the journey alone, I won't be alone when I arrive either.  Shinta is waiting for me.  Like always, he's gone ahead to make sure everything's all right.  There's nothing to be afraid of."

Megumi said nothing, not trusting that her voice would not waver, if it made it out at all past the aching knot in her throat.  She merely bent her head over the one on her shoulder, wondering wordlessly who would wait for _her_ when that time came, and whether she, unlike Kaoru, would have anything to fear.

 "It helps a lot when you know you can count on someone else to be there.  Things don't seem quite so frightening as they might otherwise."  Again, Kaoru patted Megumi's hand.   "It's my turn now to say that I'm not as strong as you, Megumi-san.  If I didn't have Shinta, I don't think I could go so easily.  But you take such good care of yourself just as you are."

 "I try to do as well as I can.  I don't want to bother other people," murmured Megumi wistfully.  "But there _are_ some times, Kaoru-chan, when I almost wish I _could_ lean on someone else.  Being by myself I get tired so much sooner these days than I used to.  I suppose I'm getting old."  Her chuckle trailed off into a sigh.  "I'm hardly as strong as you think."

Kaoru briefly looked up at her to smile.  "I'm sure you are.  It's just that even the strongest warrior gets tired of fighting all of the time, for no one but himself.  Two people sharing one load means half the burden and twice the will, ne?"

 "I'm afraid I've already been selfish about sharing my burdens for too long, and no one will take them anymore even if I asked."  Megumi gave a rueful laugh and shook her head.  "Well, never mind.  There's nothing for it now but picking all of it up again and soldiering on to the bitter end."

 "Are you sure?"

And Kaoru looked up again at her with an intensity in the blue eyes that made Megumi's heart flutter, and then sink.  Finding that she couldn't feign her usual scorn before that keen, knowing gaze, the doctor settled for a pained sigh instead.

 "Kaoru-chan..."

 "You read the letters?"

Megumi sighed again.  "Hai.  Enough to"—she hesitated—"to know."

 "Soshite...?"

 "Wakaranai yo."  A shadow of the kitsune's impatience edged her voice.  "There are too many things in the way—too many long and wasted years—and there's work, and you, and him, and—and Aizu, and..."  And Megumi, who had run out of "and"s, lapsed into silent exasperation.

 "Of course you know each other best.  But I shouldn't think the years have been wasted, although I can't help wishing they hadn't had to pass at all," added Kaoru wryly.  "And it _would_ be a waste now to let go of a love you both want and need"—she paused for the briefest of moments as Megumi looked away—"because of all sorts of silly made-up reasons."

 "They're not silly, and I haven't made them up," returned Megumi, knowing she sounded like a child and hating it.  "I might be lonely, but not crazy, not yet.  We'd never know peace together.  We bicker all the time over the smallest things and insult each other to our faces—"  She caught herself, realizing belatedly that she was reciting a speech she had come to memorize over the last few years—one she had repeated to herself for so many chill nights lying in bed alone, fighting off the urge to pick up a pen and trust to the mercies of international post.  She felt blood rush to her cheeks at her own mistake.  She remembered, too, that Sanosuke and she hadn't had a single serious disagreement since his return.

Kaoru, meanwhile, was nodding.  "I understand, Megumi-san.  As long as you're certain."  Megumi glanced at her suspiciously, wondering if she was only imagining the hint of amusement in her voice; but Kaoru seemed nothing but serious.  "And now I think I've kept you from your work long enough."  Smiling gratefully, the younger woman leaned back against the open shoji.  "Gomen nasai.  But I'm so glad we've talked again."

She caught hold of Megumi's hand and pressed it confidingly.  Megumi stared down at their clasped hands for a moment, then laid her other hand over both and smiled at Kaoru through a sudden mist of tears.

 "Arigatou, Kaoru-chan.  Itsu mo no you ni."  She chuckled.  "And please, forgive my stubbornness.  It's been part of me for so long I don't think I can change it anymore even if I wanted to."

She placed the tea utensils neatly on the tray and stood up to go.  But in a sudden move, she set the tray back down, gathered Kaoru's thin hands in both her own, and pressed a hasty, tear-wet kiss to her palm; and before Kaoru could clear her painful throat enough to speak, Megumi was striding briskly across the courtyard with the tray, long hair swaying gently behind her.

 "Daijoubu, Jou-chan?" asked Sanosuke gently despite his sleep-rough voice, laying a hand on Kaoru's shoulder.

 "Aa," said Kaoru, watching as Megumi disappeared into the kitchen.  Then she turned and smiled up at Sanosuke.  "Daijoubu."

~ tsuzuku ~

**A/N.**  Kyaaaa! Another dialoguey chapter.  I work on a loose and constantly modified outline, but this one really did run away with me.  In a haze of near-catatonia (I can only steal snatches of writing time at the very end of the day) I followed scrap after scrap of sudden idea until I ended up with... this. ^.^  Still, it seems the muse has been very kindly indulging me, for this solved quite a few problems I was wrestling with in one fell swoop, so to speak.

A very, very much belated acknowledgement:  The name "Kiriko" (some chapters ago, Kenji's briefly alluded-to girlfriend) is from **Sekihara Tae**'s (pre-Kenji) incomparable works, e.g. "Toki to Ki to Koneko Kitto," which I first read about five years ago but which I can still recall vividly.  (My friends would know that with me and my notorious memory blanks, that feat is definitely a testament in the story's favor.)  "Kiriko" was Kenshin and Kaoru's thankfully unstained-by-Battousai-angst little violet-eyed girl.  And yes, I shamelessly stole that name.  Gomen!  Gomen!  Gomen!  But please let it be a tribute instead of a trespass. ^.^

You can check out her stories at sekihara(dot)dreamhost(dot)com(slash)TheAkabeko.  Read her yummy lemons as Komagata Yumi too!


	12. Surprises

glossary:

chik(u)shou = Shoot!  Darn! i.e. all-purpose swear word  ^.^;

okyaku = guest, visitor

kiai = the shout a warrior makes with every strike, which must contain the whole spirit of his attack

itachi = weasel

ogenki = among other meanings, in very good spirits ^.^

hanten = jacket

o-machi kudasai = "please wait," very polite form.

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Eleven:  Surprises

"Oei, Megitsune, who's the kid with the rice bowl on his head?"

"Rice bowl on his..."

 "He's been watchin' me all morning with this creepy look in his eyes, like he's tryin' to make up his mind whether to worship me or kill me.  It's been drivin' me crazy."

 "Toriatama, who on earth are you talking about?"

 "Don't look, but he's sweepin' the yard right now."

Rebelliously, Megumi looked, and saw Akira hard at work in the courtyard, bent over his broom with an expression of intense concentration.  Suddenly Megumi laughed—with his straight black hair gracelessly chopped off around his ears, Akira did look as though he wore an inverted rice bowl on his head.

 "That's Akira, one of the boarders.  Don't tell me you haven't noticed him before now."

Sanosuke grinned as he leaned against the wall, on a momentary respite from chopping wood for winter fuel.  "Oh, I've noticed him.  Kinda hard not to when he makes googly eyes at you every chance he gets."

Megumi chuckled.  "What can I say?  The boy has taste."

 "I'd say he has."  And Sano smirked at her with a light in his eyes that made Megumi turn away, back to the herbs she was preparing to steep in wine, with a hasty "Back to work, toriatama, no one's allowed to be lazy here."

He let it go with a laugh and walked back outside.  Wresting his axe free of the stump and placing two stout logs before him, he straightened up just in time to see a small, slight, blue-clad figure on top of the dojo walls.

 "Chik'shou!" burst from Sano's mouth as he ran forward, thinking to catch the little girl if she fell.  But he was astonished to see the girl leap from the wall to the roof of the walk to the gate, and from there bound lightly down onto the scrubby yard.  In his surprise he forgot to stop and—_wham_!—slammed right into the wall.

As he lay on the ground trying to collect his wits, hearing in dim waves the tittering of the students in the training hall, a girl's freckled face popped into his sight, blue eyes huge with concern.

 "Are you okay, okyaku-san?"

 "Aa," groaned Sano, dragging himself into a sitting position before he lost any more face in front of the child.  Gingerly he touched his nose, and sighed with relief to see no blood on his fingers.  "You worried me.  And who are you callin' 'visitor,' ne?  You're the one stealin' over the wall instead of usin' the gate like everybody else."  He stood up, dusting himself off, and crouched before her with a grin that softened his words.

The girl glared at him defiantly.  "Takako-chan is _not_ a visitor or a thief!"

 "Shinomori Takako!  Have you gone and left your parents at the station again?"

Sanosuke staggered backward in stark astonishment as Megumi hurried forward with a glad laugh.  As she caught up the child, who embraced her with ecstatic giggles, Sano stared in consternation at the wide ocean-blue eyes, the long shiny hair whipping about in a very familiar braid, the scandalously short blue outfit that only now began to make sense in his head.  _Shino...mori...?_

 "I knew she'd be here!  Eh?  Who's that guy?  What was he doing with—"

That was the last Sanosuke vaguely heard coming from the dojo gate before a shrill kiai rent the air and he saw, zooming toward him, the sole of a rough brown boot.

Cursing, he seized the ankle that came with it and twisted, but instead of tumbling painfully to the ground, the boot's owner flipped gracefully over to land with a light thud and a merry laugh.

 "Sanosuke!  I knew it was you!  Who would've thought!"

And Misao seized his hand with an enthusiasm that would have crushed the limbs of a lesser man.  As it was, Sano grinned and clapped Misao on the shoulder, noting in a single, sweeping glance the bright red flower-print kimono, somewhat rumpled but still daintily secured, and the married woman's hair bun that had sprouted several stray wisps after her exercise in agility.

 "Can I still call you itachi-chan, or will someone slice me in two?"

 "I don't slice, I only skewer, so you must mean my husband."  Misao dragged a theatrically groaning Sanosuke over to where Aoshi stood, carrying a small boy on his arm, eyeing them with dry amusement as he talked with Megumi.

Brown eyes met blue that were no longer quite as icy as Sano remembered them to be.  "Shinomori."

 "Sagara."  Aoshi grasped his hand firmly, his eyes smiling if not his mouth.  "We lost track of you in Mexico.  It is good to see you have returned safely."

 "I think I'm more in danger here than out there," said Sano wryly, "of having a heart attack from shock."  He arched his eyebrow pointedly at the child in Aoshi's arms.

At the color that flared faintly across the older man's cheeks, Sano exploded into fifteen years' worth of laughter, stumbling backward helplessly with the force as Aoshi's flustered expression became one of peeved resignation.

 "This is Hideki-chan, and he's four years old."  Megumi's calm tone was edged with humor as she let go of a wriggling Takako.  Misao clapped her hands and laughed as well, seeming far younger than her thirty-one years.

 "Hai!  Hai!  You must wait till you hear everything you've missed, and only then can you consider dropping dead.  Looks like Takako-chan has run off with the Myoujin children again."  And mournfully staring after her hyperactive daughter, who was met with gleeful shouts by Yahiko's sons and daughter, Misao switched subjects in a heartbeat.

"All right, as usual, Misao-chan?" asked Megumi, smiling.

 "As usual, Megumi-sensei."  Suddenly serious, Misao moved to stand next to Aoshi.  "How is Kaoru-san?"

 "She's eager to see both of you again.  Come in, I'll take you to her."

As Megumi led the little family into the dojo, Sanosuke was left standing in the yard for several moments, shaking his head in wonder.  Then, with a final grin and a chuckle, he turned back to finish his work.

Misao and Aoshi stayed in Kaoru's room until well into the afternoon.  Tsubame served them their lunch inside, tactfully keeping Takako out of the way by inviting her and Akiko to help with the afternoon tea once the boys' sparring games lost their charm.  Sanosuke, passing Kaoru's room on his way out to check on Fuuko, heard Misao's lively voice through the shoji and shook his head with a smile.

 "Nice to see the itachi-musume is still ogenki after all these years," he told Megumi in an undertone, as they all lingered in the dining hall after dinner that evening.

 "She's much like Kaoru-chan that way."  Megumi smiled fondly at Misao, who was regaling everyone present with irreverent stories of the Aoiya's various customers.

 "That she finally melted the icicle makes her a formidable woman."  Glancing over at Aoshi, who was quietly instructing his son in the dignified art of sipping tea, Sano shook his head, still in awe over the tale of how the two Oniwabanshuu Okashira had ended up happily married with children.

Megumi chuckled.  "That it does.  Do you see how he smiles for Takako-chan now?  Misao-chan always said she would unlock his smile, though it took her a little longer than even she'd expected."

Tsubame would not hear of the Shinomoris staying anywhere other than the dojo, and so another couple was bedded down in one of the rooms for the winter.  With the place already full of young and old alike, creaking and shuffling, talking and laughing behind every door, the moon was already high in the sky before the dojo finally settled with a modicum of peace.

Megumi, however, remained restlessly wandering the grounds, instinctively shying from the populated buildings as she sought a quiet place to think.  She was just rounding the corner of the kitchen when she spotted a slight figure seated on the well cover, long legs drawn up, her head in her arms, weeping softly.

She was just about to go to Misao when a tall shadow slipped from the larger shadow of the dojo to arrive ahead of her.  With surprising gentleness, Aoshi gathered his wife into his arms as she cried bitterly into his gi.

 "I'm sorry, I'm being selfish," Misao said brokenly, her voice muffled against her husband's chest.  "I'm crying not for her, but for me.  For everyone that's to be left behind."

As Aoshi's head bent tenderly over Misao's, his fingers soothingly stroking the long shimmering river of her hair, Megumi abruptly turned away, feeling as though she had intruded on something too sacred for her presence.

She nearly bit her tongue in fright when a disheveled head, teeth flashing brightly in a grin, popped upside-down into view from the edge of the roof.

 "Lookin' for an escape?"

"I haven't been up on the roof in the longest time."  Megumi gazed out happily at the twinkling lights of Tokyo from her perch.

His hands behind his head, Sano stretched out his long legs comfortably.  "The dojo's gettin' a bit crowded, ne, kitsune?"

 "Yahiko and the others enjoy it, but I'm afraid I'm more used to quieter surroundings."

 "You must miss Aizu."

 "Something like that."  Megumi, smiling up at the unclouded stars, gathered her hanten more closely about her as a cold breeze wafted slowly by.  "I remember that one time we all gathered up here to watch the Tanabata fireworks.  With Suzume-chan, Ayame-chan, and all the rest."

 "Aa.  And Jou-chan spied on Yahiko and Tsubame till Kenshin hauled her away."  Sano chuckled.

 "Strange, isn't it, how we remember things so long past?  Things were so different then."

 "See, you're already talkin' like a grandma."

Megumi laughed.  "Yare yare.  An old maid, more like, with the emphasis on 'old.'"  In an instant she realized her slip and cringed inwardly, as Sano's eyes darted toward her, dark in the moonlight yet bright at the same time.

 "You read 'em."  It wasn't a question.

Drat him and his ability to read ki.  He hadn't had that yet when he was still with them.  Megumi looked away and made no response.

 "Don't bother tryin' to soften the blow.  That's not like you, kitsune.  I'd rather have it in one shot then let it go forever."  Sano spoke tersely, his relaxed pose suddenly taut.

Megumi gritted her teeth, wishing this moment had never come, that she had never accepted his offer of a seat on the roof under such a romantically spangled night sky, that she had gone to bed with everyone else like a sensible spinster and not roamed the dojo trying to quiet her thoughts of a roosterheaded wanderer.

 "If you won't talk yet, then I will, if you'll let me."  Sanosuke sat up, restlessly running his hand through his newly cropped hair.  For a moment he paused, staring fiercely at nothing, trying to gather his thoughts and his courage, which he seemed to have forgotten at ground level.

 "You don't have to be sorry for something ya don't feel.  It was stupid, I knew it was—known it for years; I'm nowhere near good enough for ya and it's no use even if I spent another fifteen years tryin' to be.  And that's why I kept those other letters from you.  Never really meant for you to see 'em.  I only told Jou-chan, and you know how kind she can't help bein', she almost got me hopin' again.  But I'm sorry to stir up your peaceful life here with my idiotic hopes, and I'm sorry I didn't see how stupid it was to come back and even think of tryin' one last time, 'til it was too late.  I've been selfish for so long I kinda forgot how not to be again.  So I owe you an apology, and you don't owe me anything at all; and I can understand how you'd prefer I went away again once all this is settled, so I will if you just tell me, even if I wish I could stay."

Whether the last part was near inaudible because he ran out of breath or because it especially cost him his courage, Megumi couldn't tell.  As he had spoken, each word tripping on the heels of the one before, she had studiously avoided looking at him, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks with every moment.  She almost forgot the cold, until an involuntary shiver rippled through her slender frame.

Before she could speak, thick, heavy warmth settled around her in the form of a rich fur cloak.  She glanced up in surprise to see Sano carefully laying the cloak on her shoulders, himself averting his gaze.  As she drew the cloak tightly around her with a nod of wordless thanks, he sat down again, about three feet apart from her.  He stared out at the sparkling city, frowning slightly as though displeased, and Megumi wondered if it was with himself or with her.

 "Sanosuke..."

His sudden smile was humorless.  "That must be the first time you've ever called me by my real name."

 "You should've seen Kaoru-chan when Ken-san first called her without the –dono."

His chuckle encouraged Megumi, who inched closer and tried not to be obvious about it.  But as Sano turned to stab her with a dark-eyed glance, she felt herself shrink before him.

 "Don't break your neck, kitsune.  If you'd rather I went, just say the word.  I won't argue with you this time."

Huddling into the welcome warmth of the fur, Megumi sat still and silent for so long that Sano finally, without another word, rose to his feet.  Leaving a quiet "You can keep the cloak" in his wake, he was preparing to leap down from the roof when a cold, pale hand brushed his own.

 "O-machi kudasai," whispered Megumi.  Reluctantly she raised her gaze to meet his.  Pride, hurt, sorrow shadowed his eyes, but not enough—there was an inner light to them that soon Megumi could not bear to see.  "We should talk."  She glanced away.

 "We've been talkin' and talkin' since I got back here."  But Sano moved to sit down again, moodily fidgeting with the ends of his jacket.

Megumi stared absently into space, groping now for the decision she had absorbed herself in her duties all day to avoid.  Fragments of Sanosuke's letter swam in and out of her consciousness, and she found herself clutching desperately at each, seeking an anchor in the midst of her confusion.

_Just like that, a kind of dream you've been living on for years and years..._

_I lived on it for so long—that vision of you smiling and all..._

_Maybe even takin' my hand._

 "Guess it's too soon to think of it, ne?  Barely been two weeks since I got back, and suddenly I'm dumping all this on ya."  That was as close to an apology as Sano could muster, and Megumi nodded silent acceptance.  "If you need time—"

At that, Megumi smiled.  Sanosuke, taking it as a signal to stop blathering, found in the pale skin, flushed cheeks, and long black hair, near buried in the rich brown fur, a more satisfying sight than any he had seen in all his travels.

 "Gomen.  I was just thinking that time is one thing you and I seem to have had in abundance."  Glad for the momentary diversion, Megumi chuckled.

Sanosuke relaxed somewhat.  At least she wasn't biting his head off yet.  "It took me that long to settle some things with myself.  For one, whether I could face the possibility of comin' home to a Megumi who wasn't a Takani anymore."  Smiling to himself, he lay back down on the roof, watching as lights went out one by one in the city before them.

 "Did it take you four years?"

Sano grinned.  "More or less."

 "Explain about Keitaro-san, please."  Megumi realized she had taken on her businesslike doctor's tones.

Sano glanced at her, then away, playing with his pipe as he slowly answered.  "Like I said, I was in New York then, and I heard from a friend of mine that there was this big international convention goin' on for doctors.  He knew I was from Japan, so he said he'd heard that there were some Japanese in the convention too.  'Course I went, curious, you know, as to what you'd look like after so long.  Then I saw you come out on that guy's arm, and I... well, I left."

Megumi let a few moments pass before she said, "Do you know I had to pretend to be his wife in order to attend that convention?"  She met Sano's dumbfounded look with a short laugh.  "There was a paper I wrote back then, and that was why I was invited to that convention.  Well, to be honest, the fools were unfamiliar with Japanese names and they thought I was a man.  There wasn't a single other woman in that convention.  Imagine the looks on their faces when they realized I was the researcher they were so eager to get on stage to speak.  Keitaro-san tried to rescue my honor by pretending I was his assistant.  And his wife."  Megumi's cheeks were burning again, but less this time with pleasure and more with remembered anger.

Sano was regarding her with unusual respect.  "Was that the only reason you were hangin' on to him like that?"

Megumi pressed her chilled palms to her face to try to counter its heat.  "Iie," she admitted quietly, turning slightly away.  "At that time... there was something else going on between us.  Or at least, so I thought."  Her tone grew bitter with the last words.

 "Sumanai."  Sanosuke clenched his fist in his jacket, wondering how it would feel to crunch a cheekbone as he hadn't done in some time.

 "Don't.  He doesn't matter anymore."  Megumi shook her head, willing away her thoughts of Keitaro.  They were replaced with thoughts of another man, far nearer, with somewhat discomfiting speed.

 "Will you let me try to make up for what he did?"

And Sanosuke's voice was so low, quiet, and even, Megumi felt the whirling in her head subside for the first time all that busy day.  She glanced up at him in confusion; she had not felt or seen him move from his seat, but suddenly he was sitting right next to her, burning his way through all her defenses to her soul with those intense eyes of his.  Seemingly transfixed by his steady gaze, she faltered her response even as the remnants of her customary pragmatism railed against her sudden weakness from somewhere deep inside. 

 "You will leave." 

Sano recoiled as though he had been struck.  Seeing change flash across in his face, his brown eyes widen for an instant, Megumi drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling guilt, pride, and anger war within her.  Although she knew not all of it was warranted, she had not dared to entertain such feelings in so long—and it relieved her as well as frightened her to feel them surging through her veins, warming her chest with her heart's pounding, weighting with long-neglected emotion the thoughts that spun in dizzying arcs around her mind.  The weight was coarse and unsatisfying, but Megumi welcomed it after the vague, half-formed ideas that slipped infuriatingly through her fingers whenever she tried to sort and pack them neatly into place.

 "You will leave because you love your liberty too much.  Because you get bored so quickly.  Because you always want something more, something new, something else.  You can't even hold down a _job_.  You will leave because everyone leaves.  That's just the way things are."

Megumi had risen to her feet as she spoke, every statement hurting her as much as she could see that it hurt him.  She spat out each word as though it were poisoned, and she needed to expel it from her body before it killed her.  But as she paused one moment to catch her breath and wipe away the tears blurring her vision, she saw that it was Sanosuke who looked as pale as Kaoru had in the predawn gray.

 "Sumanai yo," she whispered, and left.

~ tsuzuku ~

**Long rambling A/N.  **Oro! Oro!  Things appear to have gathered to an altogether unexpected head (yes, even and especially to me).  These two never let me know where they're going; they just leave me in the lurch to pick up after them, that they do.  Sigh.

By the way, Misao's boot is, of course, the Angry Demon Bird Kick ^.^  And just as a silly bit of trivia, the scene of her and Aoshi at the well was dredged up by my subconscious from my long-term memory... There's a scene in the Revenge arc, when Misao and Aoshi arrive at last at the dojo after Kaoru's been "buried," when Misao sits on the well, hugging her knees and crying.  Aoshi, lingering awake inside the dojo, hears her. ...But he doesn't go to her.  Wahh!!! @.@

Two nonsensical wonderings:  How _will_ she get down from that silly roof in her kimono and a big heavy fur coat?  (Oh dear, let's just assume there's an obliging balcony somewhere nearby, or maybe a hatch leading down into the training hall, or something equally convenient.  Somehow it doesn't become Megumi to be clambering down the sides of buildings.)  And how come Sano is always the one left behind?  ^.^

Tee hee, this chapter does seem to have, as they say, "written itself."  Far faster than I'd expected it to.  For those who are wondering how the two Okashira _did_ get around to two kids and a dog (left behind in Kyoto?), I'll weasel out of that (awful pun intended) and refer you to any one of the many Aoshi-and-Misao-get-together-at-last fics lying around.  Plenty enough to cater to any taste, I think, and to do without any contribution of my own.

Well, time to get to work on some _school_ stuff this time. @.@  Thanks again as always for reading...  Thanks also to everyone who reviewed, Aislinn6, Liz, and eriesalia.  Feedback is an ff-writer's lifeblood, ne?  Ne??  (wink wink)


	13. Those who Gather, Those who Leave

glossary:

ara? = general expression of wonderment / surprise

demo = but... but...

hontou wa = that's true.

iya = no, plain form

Kikoeru ka? = Can you hear [me]?

koko = here

mata, gomen nasai = literally, "Again, I'm sorry."

okaasan, 'kaasan = mother

onna-sensei = literally, lady doctor

sakura = cherry blossoms ^.^

sou ka = is that so? (also, in a sense, when the Japanese say it, "Is that so.") ^.^

wakatta = I understand.  I know.

yoku wa nai wa. = literally, "not good"; as in, "That's not good." ("wa" as an ending particle is commonly used by women.)

* a note on the glossary: My apologies if each chapter's glossary doesn't always list all the terms in that chapter.  But I only do that if the term has already been used before.  It will help you exercise your memory de gozaru! ^.^

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Twelve:  Those who Gather, Those who Leave

_"He'll grow out of it.  They always do, though they never admit it.  It's only a matter of time."_

_"Megumi-san, from the looks of these letters, he hasn't stopped thinking about you in fifteen years.  Don't you think if he were to grow out of it, he'd have already done it by now?"_

_ "Idle dreaming, nothing more.  It's easy to immerse yourself in a fantasy as long as it never becomes real.  If he stays long enough, he'll realize that it could never actually happen."_

_ "Is that what you tell yourself?"_

_ "...It's bad enough being lonely without getting caught up in false hopes and fantasies, Misao-chan."_

_ "...You think I don't know that?"_

Megumi groaned out loud and opened her eyes.  From the looks of the moonlight glowing softly through the shoji panes, it would be some time yet before midnight; she had spent the last hour tossing and turning.  Though it had been a week since her brief conversation with Misao at the weasel girl's birthday dinner, she could still replay every word, every sigh and hesitant pause in her mind, could still vividly recall that sympathetic, knowing look in the bright green eyes.

_She was only trying to help._  For the hundredth time, Megumi told herself this.  She was still having trouble accepting Misao's attempts at advice.  First, Megumi was six years older and considered the effervescent Misao a mere child despite her thirty-odd years; second and more to the point, Megumi hated being wrong, as Misao's innocent interrogation had forced her to inwardly admit.

_It's not that I'm wrong._  Megumi smiled wryly at herself in the darkness.  _I'm just... thinking in circles._

Exhaling irritably, she turned onto her side, burrowed deeper into her blankets, and shut her eyes.  It took her another full minute of trying desperately to fall asleep before she finally shoved the sheets off herself and stood up.

Soon, wrapped in one of her warmest coats and carrying her medical kit, she was tapping lightly at Kaoru's door.  At Kenji's quiet assent, she bustled in, putting on a cheery smile for the boy's benefit.

 "Let me take over tonight, Kenji-kun.  You need the sleep more than I—"

But her smile slipped and her voice died unexpectedly in her throat as she found that Kenji was not alone with his mother in the room.  Sanosuke was sitting next to him, looking up at her with dark, wary eyes that brought a whole week's worth of awkwardness and uneasy avoidance rushing back to Megumi's memory.

 "Sensei?" prompted Kenji, his tone quietly amused.

Megumi turned abruptly toward Kaoru's futon, annoyance tightening her grasp on her medical kit.  Somehow it seemed everyone in the dojo knew about her and Sanosuke.  Were they that obvious?

 "Never mind," she sighed, trying to forget that Sano was even present.  "How is your mother?"

 "She hasn't awoken since this morning, but she hasn't seemed to be in pain."

 "I just changed the transfusion this afternoon...  Yoku wa nai wa."  Kneeling by the bed, Megumi reached for Kaoru's arm where it lay limply at her side—and gasped when her fingers brushed the younger woman's skin.  In a room Kenji kept almost too warm by diligently tending the braziers, Kaoru was icy cold to the touch.

 "Kenji, hot water and all the ice you can find."  Quickly shrugging out of her heavy cloak, Megumi laid it on top of Kaoru's already doubled blankets.  Kenji sprang to his feet, and after a moment of shock was out the door.  Sano too had risen to his feet; he shut the door behind the boy to conserve the room's precious heat.   "Wake Yahiko and ask for old blankets, toriatama.  Then help Tsubame rip them up into strips."

Megumi had hardly finished speaking before Sanosuke had gone.  Kaoru's face seared her hand, and only now that Megumi was leaning close toward her did the doctor see the sweat finely beading her forehead.  Cursing under her breath, ignoring the discomfort of the hot, stuffy room, she moved to the bottom of the bed and, yanking up the blankets, began briskly rubbing Kaoru's cold, limp feet.  Wordlessly she noted that the toes were turning blue.

 "Here, use these."  As Kenji entered bearing a bucket, Megumi tossed at him two of Yahiko's forgotten hankachiis.  "Her forehead and shoulders.  There isn't any more?"  She heard the shrill note of despair in her own voice as she glanced into the bucket and saw only small slivers of thin, crumbling ice.

 "The frost has only just begun, sensei.  But I sent one of the servants to the river for more."  And Megumi knew steel-edged control when she saw it; there was a glint in Kenji's eyes and a barely audible quiver in his voice as he spoke, swiftly layering ice into cloth.

She nodded and bit her own trembling lip as she looked back down at her work, fiercely blinking back the tears in her eyes.  Kaoru moaned softly.  Megumi quickly covered up her feet and moved to brush away Kaoru's wayward hair as Kenji placed the cold compress on her forehead.

 "Kaoru-chan?  Kikoeru ka?"

Kaoru made no response, and Megumi pushed away her blankets in time to see her chest slowly rise and slowly fall, as though that single breath cost her.  In horror Megumi saw that the sunken cheeks were taking on a grayish tinge.

 "Kaoru-chan!  Iya!  You _will_ fight it!"  She was barely conscious of having spoken aloud.  Megumi placed hot hands on Kaoru's cheeks and shuddered at the chill of the skin.  She glanced around desperately, but Kenji was already occupied with rubbing Kaoru's cold feet as she had done and could not be spared.

 "Takani-san.  Is there anything I can do?"

The firm, quiet voice sent a wave of relief washing over Megumi.  "Arigatou," she breathed, smiling gratefully at Aoshi, who had entered the room with barely a whisper of a draft through the shoji.  "I just need someone to stay here and talk to her while I prepare something.  If Misao-chan can—"

 "Koko."  Misao's voice was unusually subdued as she stood in the doorway.

Megumi felt her spirits sink further.  Misao subdued did not bode well.

 "Daijoubu."  Megumi tried to smile, groping for the remnants of her courage.  "If you'll help me in the kitchen, I have something that might help."

As the two women hurried down the corridor, Megumi distantly registered hurried whispers and hasty footsteps, the occasional muffled wail, as the sleepy dojo began to stir.  She and Misao nearly ran into Sanosuke sprinting down the stairs with an armful of linen.  Tsubame followed close behind, various small bottles clinking in her hands, experienced with her own children's illnesses.

 "Hot compress on her feet and legs, Tsubame-chan, and that liniment is a good idea.  The fever must be brought down from her head."

A tremulous "hai!" and Misao and Megumi stood aside to let them pass.  Yahiko too came down the stairs, though much more slowly, and his eyes were shadowed.  Megumi could not bear to meet his haunted gaze and nearly ran on to the kitchen, leaving Misao hurrying after her.

 "Prepare a cup, and pour a little pot of that hot water for a tea."  Despite trembling fingers, Megumi's measurements were swift and precise, and soon a mix of several herbs and powders lay in a neat pile on a white paper square.  "Kaoru-chan _must_ drink this.  Take this to her and I'll follow soon with another treatment."

As soon as Misao had vanished through the doorway, nimbly balancing her tray even as she flew down the hall, Megumi gave in and sagged weakly against the oven, at last powerless against emotions that shook her and the tears that flowed down her cheeks.  _Kami-sama!_ she gasped voicelessly, clutching at the counter as her legs gave way beneath her.  _Kaoru!_

"Megitsune."  A low, rough voice was in her ear, and strong arms caught hold of her; unseeing through her tears, she clutched at him for dear life.  "Wakatta.  It's all right."

 "Iya!  It's _not_ all right!"  Her slender hands fisted in the cloth of his jacket.  "She's dying, Sano!"

 "We know... Megumi."

He tried to hold her close, but she was rigid in his arms; and as Sano hesitated, she pushed him away, dragging the sleeve of her yukata across her wet cheeks so roughly that it left a bright red streak.

"Oi, what are you doing?" he asked, more astonished than angry as she pulled a vial of clear liquid from her medicine shelves and poured its contents into a glass jar.

 "There's one more thing that I can try."  Her voice was taut, forced through gritted teeth, as she caught up two other half full bottles and quickly added white and brown powders to the liquid.  "Till it fails, I can't afford to waste time.  I'll make artificial lungs to breathe for her if I have to—"

 "Megumi, stop this!"  Lunging across the small room, Sano seized her wrist.  The small iron tripod she was holding fell to the floor with a loud clang.

 "Now look what you've done!"  Megumi's eyes were feral with rage.  Twisting out of Sanosuke's grasp, Megumi snatched up the tripod.  Sano fell back despite himself at the heat of the anger that simmered around her.  "Keep out of the way, baka.  I don't know about you, but I'm not going to make the same mistake I made with Ken-san.  I won't let her die."

"That's enough, Megumi."  Sanosuke stepped in front of her.  Furious, she glared up at him, but he held her gaze with his own.  "You can't force her to stay alive.  That's not what a doctor does."

 "Force her?"  The tears had come again, spilling over onto her cheeks, and Megumi felt even more of her tenuous self-control slip from her fingers.  "Wh-what are you saying?"

And even as she spoke, she heard the hollowness in her own tones, knew that her all-too-false anger was gone, had given way at last to the morbid fear that coiled and shifted and screamed in the pit of her stomach.

_First Ken-san, now Kaoru..._

She averted her eyes, suddenly ashamed of the nakedness of her despair.

 "I'm saying you should stop this.  And let her go."  A rough fingertip brushed her cheek; the honest, gentle sorrow in his voice made her turn her face away, knowing she could no longer fight off her grief, yet too proud to let him see her cry yet again.  "This has gone on long enough.  Let her go, Megumi."

_Kaoru-chan..._

Her own words, heavy with spite and pain and weariness.  _Everyone leaves.  That's just the way it is._

 "I _can't_ let her go," she whispered; and dimly she realized her voice was muffled in his jacket, for he had gathered her close, fingers softly stroking her long hair, arms strong and safe around her as if he knew that she felt too weak to stand.  "I can't let her go, Sano.  She's all I have left."

_Because everyone leaves._

Because Kaoru always smiled when they met, and greeted her as fondly as if the years of absence had never happened; because Kaoru was so strong even as her body faded away; because she spoke of love and hope and trust, and had leaned against Megumi when it had been so long since anyone had dared to approach the haughty onna-sensei.  Because when she laughed, truly laughed, it was if fifteen years had never passed—and it was summer again in the dojo, with Kenshin's laundry bright in the sunshine,  Kaoru wailing over another spoiled lunch, Sano grappling with Yahiko in the dust, and Megumi young and not yet too proud to admit that she loved their odd group as much as she had loved the family she had lost.

_Everyone leaves._

And Megumi sank against Sanosuke, the tears flowing like blood from a heart that was breaking yet again.  

_Can I let you go, Kaoru-chan?  Am I strong enough, the way you were strong enough to let go of Kenshin?_

Then, as she clung to him, she realized dimly that he was also holding her, as tightly as though he himself could not stand alone; and that he also was weeping as she had never before known him to do.  Saddened beyond words that he should share her grief, Megumi's own sobs subsided as she curved her own hand against his head, tenderly stroking the smooth dark hair, feeling her own hair grow damp and hot with tears so like her own.

_For him, perhaps_—she drew a long, unsteady breath as one more tear trailed slowly down her cheek—_he who would be mine, if I asked... I will try to be strong, as he has been for me._

They remained in each other's arms long after their grief had eased, neither speaking, neither moving, each finding in the other a silent strength and comfort that satisfied them far better than the most passionate kiss.

At the well, two figures also shared an embrace.   It was Misao's uncontrollable sobbing that broke the hush, but she also knew, by the sunless look in his eyes, that Aoshi needed her to mourn aloud the way he no longer could.

Tsubame rarely felt stronger than her fighter husband.  But tonight, feeling oddly braced by a heartfelt understanding words could not express, she smiled through her tears as she gathered her sleepy-eyed children about her in the hall.  In a rare display of affection, Yahiko silently enfolded his little family in his arms.  With little more than a look and a squeeze of her hand on his, Tsubame lent her own quiet strength to the man who was losing a teacher, a sister, and a mother all in one night.

"Kenji-kun?  I thought I heard more than one person in here...  Was I dreaming?"

Kenji squeezed his mother's thin hand, trying to see through his tears as he tucked her hair more neatly around her.  Kaoru's one vanity had always been her beautiful black hair.  "You weren't dreaming, 'kaasan.  Megumi-sensei was here a while ago.  And Aoshi-san just went out with Misao-basan."

 "Sou ka.  Aoshi-san always knew what was going on without a single word being spoken."  Kaoru's chuckle made only a ghost of a sound.  "Ara?"  Something cold and wet had spattered onto her cheek.  Kaoru turned her head searchingly, but her tired eyes were too dim.  "Are you crying, my son?"

Kenji doubled over in pain that was almost physical.  "H-hai, okaasan."  Hot, heavy tears struck the wooden floor.  "S-sumanai."

 "Iya."  Kaoru's voice, though hardly more than a sigh, was as stoically cheerful as always.  "Cry as much as you want.  Not all tears are weakness."

 "Okaasan."  Kenji's voice was low and tortured as he gathered his mother close, appalled at how light and limp her body was.  "You can't go.  There's still so much I need to know.  Still so much I need you to show me."

"Hontou wa.  I am the one who should apologize."  Her eyes were shut, and Kaoru's faint words came in bursts as she labored for enough breath with which to speak.  "Demo, you don't have to worry.  You worry too much.  You got that from Shinta and me.  You forget, Kenji-kun, just like I sometimes forgot"—a smile flickered across her mouth, but it obviously demanded more effort than she could make—"you don't have to be alone.  We can count on other people, on our friends."

 "I don't want to count on anyone but you and myself," whispered Kenji desperately.

Kaoru's face dimmed.  "That is not the true meaning of strength."

Astonished, Kenji stared down at her, his grief momentarily forgotten.

 "I wish I could teach you that, my son."  A tear crept down Kaoru's pallid cheek, glistening in the firelight.  "I wish your father had been able to teach you.  But Sanosuke and Yahiko are there, Megumi-san, Tsubame-chan, Aoshi-san, Misao-chan.  They will help you now, if you heed them.  Will you do this for me, Kenji-kun?"

Kenji bowed his head, not wanting her to see the stubborn rebellion in his eyes, and mutely nodded.

"My angry son.  Mata, gomen nasai."  Kaoru's words were a tiny breath feebly stirring Kenji's hair.  "But it will be all right.  Shinta and I—we will watch over you until the ice melts at last from your heart."

Kenji said nothing, merely bowed over her, soaking her yukata with wordless tears.  He felt Kaoru lightly touch his shoulder.

 "It will be all right, Kenji-kun.  You will be strong."

And then her touch was light no longer, but a chill, heavy, lifeless pressure against his skin.

Kenji cried until no more tears came, and then he cried without them.

Aoshi and Misao soon went back inside, for the first snowfall of the year was drifting down from the starless sky—small flakes blooming silver-white in the darkness, falling gently, like sakura petals in the fullest blaze of spring.

~ tsuzuku ~

**A/N.**  Here's to the bumper crop of zits I'm sure to wake up with tomorrow, because I'm writing fanfic instead of my killer history paper... plus I have an exam tomorrow that I haven't read one bit for... @.@

I have my own share of apologies to give out:  I spent the last three hours writing this, and I've been so eager to send this off (and stop it hanging over my head, so that maybe I can finally concentrate on schoolwork) that I haven't really refined it yet, the way I obsessive-compulsively usually do.  I hope this isn't OOC / too clichéd / too gushy (okay scratch that, I do tend to gush rather badly [hangs head in shame]). 

Therefore, any and all suggestions for improvement will be gratefully accepted and implemented where applicable. (I'll mark the summary "revised" in that case.)  ^.^

Arigatou gozaimasu for the reviews!  **eriesalia**, sorry, there wasn't much of Misao's perspective on S/M ne? I kind of dodged out of yet another major dialogue scene at that point. Ultimately, it was Megumi who made up her own mind, and Sano himself who kind of helped her. And incidentally, I really planned from the beginning to have just Kenji-chan there at the crucial moment. **redbandana, supernaturalove**, I'm so happy you're liking this fic! ^.^ **kakashi-fan**, sorry, not very much A/M in this one ne? The chapter was already kind of heavy as it was, that I thought. **g3ozLizh**: yay Kare-Kano! ^.^ yep, the last few eps threw me for a loop too. @.@ **mysti-chan, Aislinn6, sanoko, MiraiGurl**, and so on (gomen ne! My memory's terrible bad!).  Hearts for eyes to you all!

This is, clearly, almost done.  Maybe three more chapters.  ^.^  And, I hope, less angst... less heavy, heavy angst...  though as I'm not too good at comedy I tend to stick to that instead.

Trivial note:  I thought of making "Aoshi-jisan" just like "Misao-basan", but somehow while it suits Misao to be "Aunt Misao," "Uncle Aoshi" just gives me the shivers.  And from Kenji, too.  @.@


	14. Moonset

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Thirteen:  Moonset

"...Okashii."

"Eh?  Why do you say that?"

A pale, peaceful face, almost but not quite smiling.  Hair spilling freely across a white pillow.

"...Everything looked just like it was..."

Yahiko's shuttered eyes, the tight line of his mouth, the gravity and grace that brought the solemn nobility of an ancient, honored line into a new era.

Tae serving tea and refreshments with a shadow of her customary cheer that was all the sadder to see;  Tsubame quietly taking over when the older woman fled to the kitchen to muffle her sobs.

"...for Ken-san."

Kiriko, a gracious, soft-spoken receptionist, her musical voice a pleasant prelude to the hushed whispers and low tones in the main room.  The light in her deep blue eyes dim with pain as she watched Kenji from a distance, clearly longing to be at his side to offer comfort, yet faithful to a duty that could not be neglected.

"...Sou ka?"

"Like I said... it's strange."

Myoujin Shin-ya kneeling beside his father and mother, round black head bowed over chubby clasped hands, small face unusually serious; his precise moments belying his breeding and his blood as he offered his own tiny pinch of incense.

Misao and Aoshi walking side by side in the procession, their black kimonos seeming to merge into one whole piece.  Takako bearing her brother in her arms and watching everything in wide-eyed silence.  Misao weeping quietly, Aoshi's strong arms embracing her, supporting her.  His devotion and sorrow naked in his eyes as she had unwittingly taught him to dare to show them; her grief welling from greater depths in the richness of the silence she had learned from him.

And trailing patiently for a good distance behind them—more mourners, a river of black clothes and somber faces growing steadily as the procession wound through the suburbs to the cemetery.  Rich and poor, young and old, in groups of friends and family—all gathering to mark the passage of a short life that had touched so many others with its unrelenting cheer and unstinting generosity.

"Still... that was spring.  And it's winter now."

The plain, simple altar once covered in sakura blossoms, now blooming with pale green vines, blue and yellow autumn flowers from Yutarou's hothouse; and whenever these seemed to be wilting already with the early winter chill, they were speedily replaced with a new batch, although Yutarou himself never left the dojo grounds.

"And I missed the one before."

A great sorrow rarely spoken of, loss cutting so deeply even he of the naked heart conceded its hurt only to the very few.

A frozen moment of hesitation, then Megumi reached up and touched his cheek.  Wide brown eyes snapped open as if startled at the contact she had initiated.

"Sou ka na."  She smiled.  "That was one other difference," she whispered.

Sutras ringing out sonorously.  Her vision of the casket before her blurred by a veil of tears.  The determination not to fall the only thing keeping her upright, when she felt so tired she wanted to simply lie down and give in at last to her emotions.

It had all been terribly familiar.

But then, unlike before, there had been a light touch on her sleeve; and as the tears had streamed at last down her cheeks, his shadowed gaze came into focus as he silently offered her his arm.  Her grief  had been tempered by a joy surging mutely through her as she leaned on someone else's strength for a change, without shame, without despair, but only gratitude, trust, contentment.

Megumi shut her hot, weary eyes and nestled closer to him, drawing the blanket snugly around the two of them.  Outside, it was snowing again.

"I looked for you, you know.  When I heard that Ken-san had returned, I never told anyone, but I hoped...  But you never came."  And she rested her head on his shoulder, as if to reassure herself that he was really with her at last.

"Aa."  Long, roughened fingers played with the shining strands of her hair, spreading it across his chest.  "Gomen ne."

She shook her head.  "It's all right now," she whispered, almost shyly, after a moment's pause.

Gently stroking the top of her head, Sano smiled to himself.  Now when had the kitsune-onna last been shy?

She lay still and silent for so long that he wondered if she had finally fallen asleep.  Peering through her long bangs, he found that her eyes were indeed closed.

But they opened again quickly, as if aware of his scrutiny.  For a moment their gazes met and held—searching, knowing, ultimately satisfied.  Megumi's mouth curved with a hint of a smile.

Then he gently kissed her, a melding of lips to soft lips that was not so much a passionate encounter as almost an afterthought, an inevitability.  Sweet, lightly lingering, the kiss lent strength, bespoke trust, promised constancy.

She soon fell asleep at last, warm in his embrace, her tearstained face hidden in his shirt.  And though Sanosuke stoically rejected slumber for a good half hour more, determined to stay awake through the night to try to convince himself that all of it was really happening, he too succumbed to sleep, cheek nestled in the fragrance of her hair, arms never slipping from their embrace even in the deepest slumber.

~ tsuzuku ~

**A/N.**  Yokatta!  Almost do~one! ^.^  Sorry for the long update...  After managing to hurdle those particularly challenging (for me, anyway) last couple of chapters, I felt I could relax and stop worrying whether my story would run away from me if I took my eyes off it for two seconds. ^.^

Credits!  Wai!  **Linay, sanoko, PraiseDivineMercy, g3ozLizh, Lychee2, Jade Star, redbandana, Aislinn6, eriesalia:**  Sigh… This unworthy one thanks you for your kind appreciation!  I'm sorry to pour on the drama there… but well, I like tragedy myself so… ^.^  I don't know how I did on the test, by the way, but I don't think I'm in real danger of flunking that particular subject just yet. (Fingers crossed!)  I'm always happy when I manage to bring out sincere feelings in other people.  Sometimes it's just so helpful and satisfying to have a good cry, even if it is "only a story," as long as we know there's someone there crying with us, ne?  Tears keep us human.

But also laughter, and love… So let's hope there's plenty of that to go around in the next chapters! ^.^

Now for some fussy admin-type stuff:  Just some points I'd like to clear up.

1)  I've referred to Tae as still a Sekihara even though she's married with three kids already.  I can't imagine her an old maid, nor as much older than twenty-five or so in the manga/anime.  So let's frolic with canon a bit and pretend she's already married, though without kiddies, in the series, alright?  ^.^

2)  On the "iron lung" allusion in Chapter 12:  Gomen nasai!  ^.^;  yes, I'm afraid I scrimped on the research on that point.  The idea basically just popped into my head as I was typing and I didn't want to interrupt my "flow" with data checks, so...  I kinda sacrificed historical accuracy for drama.  Bad ffic-writer! @.@  But hey, by that time I think they'd already invented an air-pump for undersea divers... so maybe they already had a really primitive artificial lung-type device.... ne?  ne?? ^.^

3)  On using Japanese terms/dialogue:  It's a habit I picked up over the years while reading fanfic. Personally, I find it sometimes strange when a writer translates "too much," especially when English translations of uniquely Japanese things are either concise but vague, or precise but long and wordy.  And I do enjoy improving my Nippongo even in the smallest ways by picking up new words from fanfic.  However, of course not everyone enjoys it when their reading is interrupted by an unfamiliar word, and they have to flip back to the glossary just to continue reading.  It also runs the risk of coming off as pretentious ("oooh! see how many Japanese words I know!").  Why use "Kikoeru ka?" when you mean "Can you hear me?", right?

I guess this will just be one of those things that ff writers will endlessly debate on.  To explain (if not justify) myself, I slip in Japanese terms (1) because I think most anime lovers (incl myself) have a thing for Japanese culture anyhow, and would therefore enjoy learning more of these snippets of their daily life; and (2) because I'm also trying to put a more "Japanese" feel into my stories, not just because they're based on anime but also because RK, in particular, is quite specifically set in a uniquely Japanese time and place.  For RK, I really can't imagine an "Aunt Misao" and "Sir/Teacher Yahiko"--somehow it conjures up funny, hopelessly Western storybook images of checkered gingham dresses and pomaded, neatly parted hair.

You could say I'm imagining my fics as anime episodes with Japanese dialogue and English subtitles.  Hence the bits of Nippongo dialogue.

Apologies to those who find it cumbersome, awkward, confusing, or downright irritating!  It's really a personal thing of mine, gomen.  I hope we will be able to reach some sort of common ground on this matter.  I will, however, try to curb my frustrated-Japanese tongue.  Arigatou gozaimashita! ^.^


	15. Vigil

**_foreword._**  Really nothing but a couple of mindless gurgles from this starry-eyed author:  Just re-watched episode 29, where Sano is still recovering from Saitou's attack.  The moment Yahiko leaves the room, Megumi-sensei does her good ol' wet-cloth-on-the-forehead technique, and then quietly rubs the bridge of Sano's nose.  Kyaaa~!! (hearts)  I need to re-watch all those episodes...

Second!  Been watching oh-so-kawaii **Chobits**, and whoop-dee-doo...  The bakeshop manager's seiyuu is none other than Ueda Yuuji!! (swoon)  Oh that sexy gravelly voice!  Zanza meets Downy Fabric Softener!  For those who have also seen Chobits, just imagine that bishounen manager speaking in this chapter...  (swoon again)  For those who haven't seen Chobits. start looking for it!  It's so much fuunnn!  ^.^

-----

glossary:

demo = but

yare yare = general resigned sigh, something like "oh well" or "there you go."  Kawaii Kenshinism ^.^

ahou = dolt, moron.  Saitou's nickname for Sanosuke ^.^;

busu = hag (ie really ugly lady).  Yahiko's surefire Kaoru insult.

Tsuyoku natte 'ru. = roughly, I'm going to become strong.  (Incidentally, what Sano says right after he fights Saitou about going to Kyoto, in the Shishio arc.)

   
 

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Fourteen: Vigil

   
   
  

Unease broke the warm, heavy comfort of sleep.  Megumi stirred, keeping her eyes squeezed shut and drearily willing slumber to reclaim her.

But the anxiety persisted, a quiet, insistently pulsating thought piercing the fog of weariness but yet making little sense.  She opened one eye and shut it again with a groan.  The sun had not yet even risen.  With a long sigh, she burrowed deeper into the blankets, wondering why she felt so restless when she had had only snatches of fitful sleep in the past few days.

Then her eyes snapped open.  In the gray invisibility of her room, she was lying alone in bed.

_Sano...?_

She bit her lip, fighting the lingering heaviness in her mind to think back over the night before.

Upon their return from the cemetery, dinner had been quiet and listless.  Even the children had behaved themselves remarkably well and retired soon after the meal.  Megumi herself had gone to bed the moment she finished her duties in the kitchen.

But then, as soon as she had set foot inside her room, an unexpected wave of sadness had hit her:  Suddenly, her small room, with its lone futon and few scattered pieces of furniture and adornment, had seemed unbearably cold and lonely.  Hesitating in the doorway, struggling with a sudden weary abhorrence of such cheerless emptiness that she could not explain away for the life of her, she had not realized she already had been standing there for several minutes until she sensed, with a start, Sano's presence some distance behind her.

The concern she saw in his eyes turned quickly into something far more inscrutable when she looked away with a hasty good night.  And then he had surprised her-and himself, from the way color blazed across his tanned cheeks and his gaze darted swiftly away from hers-by asking if he could stay with her for a few hours.

Before reason and resistance could gather in her mind, before he could start to negate his own request, she had simply said "Hai."

Then she had walked into her room and lit the lamp in the corner, looked back to where he stood hesitantly in the doorway with tension and uncertainty evident in every taut line of his body, and told him with well-practiced disdain to shut the door to the winter draft and make himself useful by stoking the brazier.

And somehow, she had eventually mustered the courage to ask him to take the other half of her futon, disguising her shyness with appropriate scorn for boneheads who didn't have the sense to wrap up more warmly on winter nights.  It had taken most of the tiny strength she'd had left to finally meet the shadowed, questioning look in his eyes-but then Sano had nodded without a word and sunk down into the mattress beside her, tucking a disproportionate half of the blanket warmly around her despite her protests.

At that, she who was just as stubborn nagged him into sharing the blanket with her; and as conversation faded away to drowsy thoughts, the wordless pleasure of companionship, and the keenly felt heat of two bodies almost, but not quite, touching beneath the sheets, it had seemed to her the most important thing in the world to muster the courage lay her hand on his, even as she hid her burning cheeks in the fall of her hair.

Megumi had then been amazed that she had the strength to meet those dark, intense, searing eyes.

Without another word he had gathered her close, and she had laid her head on his broad chest as she had tried not to dream of doing for so many, many years.   A meandering conversation of whispers, then, finally, a kiss that had made sleep sweeter than ever before.

It made sense now that his sudden, mysterious absence should break that rest.

Megumi sank deep into her blankets, frowning to herself in the darkness.  Outside, a long sigh of a breeze made the chime ring out once, very softly.

     *     *     *

A broad-shouldered figure sat unmoving in Kaoru's empty room.  The shoji had been parted to face the frost-stripped yard.  A month before, honey-colored autumn sunlight had passed through the same opening to warm a petal-patterned kimono.  Now it was the dull yellowish glow of the waning moon that cut, from the soft shifting black of night's shadows, a sharper, blacker profile.

 "Sanosuke.  You've already disturbed me, so sit with me anyway."

 "How the hell can you teach your students to respect their elders when you set such a lousy example?"  But Sano was more amused than irritated, so he took a companionable seat beside the younger swordsman.

Yahiko grinned.  "Sumanu.  But really, you've gained quite admirable control over your ki."

 "I could say the same of you, _sensei_.  But really"-Sano smiled-"you're still a brat."

 "And you're still an idiot.  Who takes advantage of upset women to spend the night with them."  Yahiko quickly dispelled the incipient fury with a quiet bark of a laugh.  "Gomen, gomen.  I really couldn't resist.  Looks like you're still a violent gangster, too.  Don't worry, I don't truly think that of you."  And he patted his friend's shoulder apologetically.

 "See if I still stick around to help reseed the yard in the spring, Yahiko-_chan_."  Somewhat disgruntled-after all, Yahiko's barb had hit a little too close to home, to his thinking-Sanosuke lounged back against the wall, pipe starting to puff.

 "Sorry, again."  An obviously flustered Yahiko gave a near-rurouni-like smile before lapsing into seriousness.  "Demo... you don't really mean that, now, do you?"

Out the corner of Sano's mouth came a meditative stream of smoke.  "I dunno," he said slowly.  "Maybe I do."  Reluctantly, alerted by the sudden plunge of Yahiko's initially merely reflective ki to ominous levels, he met the other man's glower, trying not to feel nervous around someone nine years younger than him.

 "It's not like you to hedge, Sano."  After a moment, Yahiko looked away, as if the movement demanded special effort.  His voice was carefully even; it reminded Sanosuke of Kenji.  "You're planning to leave again next year?"

Sano gracelessly blew out a last puff of smoke and tapped the ashes out of his pipe onto the ground.  "I dunno," he said again.  "I might."

Yahiko watched him silently.  Feeling oddly ashamed of himself beneath that wordless gaze, and feeling oddly angry at himself for feeling ashamed, Sanosuke shrugged.  "With Jou-chan and Kenshin gone, and all you kids grown up already, you don't need me.  There's nothing for me here."

He stared fiercely out toward the yard at nothing in particular.

_Yare yare._  Yahiko's dignity forbade slapping his own forehead or strangling Sano in his exasperation, so the descendant of Tokyo samurai merely sighed.  "Nothing at all...?"

Sano closed his eyes and chuckled.  Yahiko was right; it _wasn't_ his style to hedge.  "The Megitsune can take care of herself all right, if that's what you wanna say.  She's been doin' that for the past fifteen years.  She doesn't need _me_ hangin' around 'n' gettin' in her hair."  Bitterness tinged his last words, and Sano stared out again at the empty yard, grimacing.

 "Well, fine, if you're such a mind-reader..."  Yahiko grinned.  "Then what was last night all about?"

 "I know ya don't think she's that kind of woman, so I'll let you live."  Sano, restlessly rumpling his hair, ignored Yahiko's annoyed look.  "She's human, yeah, she gets lonely sometimes.  'Specially when people that keep you strong... kinda die on you.  Kenshin wasn't too long ago.  And she's the doctor, so she's really takin' this pretty hard, I think."  He shrugged, knowing that he sounded infinitely more detached than he felt.  "But she's smart and she's got so much goin' for her-she'll get over this soon enough.  And she won't want any boneheads gettin' in the way."

He apparently no longer cared that he sounded downright gloomy.  Yahiko shook his head.  "I didn't intend to interfere, but since it's come up...  I must tell you that I don't think leaving would be a good idea."  He arched an eyebrow.  "In fact, I don't think it would be much honorable or noble if you left, Sanosuke."

Sano shot him a peeved glance.  "Of course, you have your own reasons," Yahiko continued calmly, "and it's not for me or anyone else to condemn anything you decide to do.  But Kenshin-if he were here, the way he used to be"-Sano noted without comment the quiet wistfulness that crept into the younger man's tones-"Kenshin wouldn't like it either.  He'd probably think you were giving in to pride.  And even a brat like me knows that's a lousy second to love."

He softened his statement with a sheepish grin and an apologetic scratch of his head, thinking fondly of Tsubame.  Two pairs of brown eyes met in an understanding too clear for words.

 "So you think I'm being a stubborn fool again, ne?"  Sano gave a harsh, abrupt laugh.  Then, looking more pained by this than by almost any physical blow Yahiko had ever seen him take, he shuffled his fingers stormily through his hair until it stuck up and out in every direction.  "This is almost worse than dealin' with that bastard Saitou.  You know what's goin' on, Yahiko-hell, half o' Tokyo knows, I think.  Too many times she's been abandoned-her family, Kenshin...  Even I left without any goodbye.  She doesn't trust people to get close to her anymore.  And I can't really blame her."

 "No one can."  Yahiko eyed him sympathetically.  "But if you're as sincere as you seem to everybody, then even though you _are_ still an ahou, you ought to care enough to try to change her mind."  From the way Sano barely even blinked at hearing the old, hated nickname, Yahiko realized his friend was more troubled than even he had expected.

 "People's minds don't get changed unless they let 'em.  She hasn't said anything since the other night, and I won't push her now that she's all torn up over Jou-chan."  Sano fidgeted with the bandages on his wrist.  "And I'm not the type to hang around forever, still hopin' for a change in the weather.  I ain't Kenshin, am I?"

But his voice had subtly changed, and he suddenly gazed up at the sky as if searching for his answers there.

Yahiko smiled.  "But we're all trying to be, aren't we?"  He rose to his feet.  "You seem to have made up your mind.  I'm sorry that I said at first that I wouldn't respect your choice.  Sometimes leaving _is_ harder than staying, and I wish you well.  Still"-he paused-"winter's only just begun, so maybe time will give you cause to decide otherwise."  He bowed somewhat formally.  "I'm sorry to leave you here, but I must get back to bed before Tsubame notices I'm gone and starts to worry."

 "You got Kenshin down pat right there," chuckled Sano.

With a rueful grin, Yahiko scratched his head once more.  "She manages me almost as well as the busu did, and without any bokken either.  Just don't tell anyone that the Master of the Thousand Shirabadori is a henpecked husband, ne?"

Sano grinned back.  "On second thought, I might just stay, just so I can laugh at you behind your back."

 "I'll laugh right back at you, 'cause I think someone's noticed _you_ gone and started to worry."  Yahiko spoke in low, dry tones as a vision in a white yukata appeared at the end of the corridor.

Sanosuke saw the long, slightly mussed hair, the pale face with its rosy mouth, and felt his heartbeat quicken, as always.  Yahiko left without another word, stopping only to exchange soft greetings and a bow with Megumi before he disappeared up the stairs.

And Sano looked quickly away as Megumi came nearer, shutting his eyes to see more clearly the impulses and desires that fought within him-the urge to run and the urge to stay, and which one was driven by love and which by selfish pride, he could hardly tell; the longing to care for her as she would never admit to wanting it, and the fear that he would have to leave forever once that task was done.

Footsteps creaked nearer, accompanied by the soft clink of ceramic.  Sano opened his eyes with a sigh and silently hoped that, as he had mustered the strength to speak his suit that night on the roof, he would muster the same strength to accept its inevitable rejection.

_Tsuyoku natte 'ru._

At thirty-four, Kenji-kun, nothing seems to have changed, really... and maybe I'm just one more person setting a lousy example around here.

As he met her gaze, in his mind he carefully wrapped the memory of the previous night's kiss, stored it away for those empty evenings under unfamiliar stars when not even strength could comfort him with the warmth of another's nearness, and not even wisdom could solace his heart with rest.

    
   
 

~ tsuzuku ~

**A/N.**  Sorry for the long time I took to update.  Feeling the need to tie up all these loose ends flapping in my face, it's taken me this long to gather the ideas and the guts to set them down at last... and then I ended up with almost enough text for two whole chapters.  It ain't much good for suspense, but maybe it's just reward for a relatively unusual delay. ^.^

Sorry also for the unintended insinuations at the end of the last chapter! I _really_ didn't mean to suggest anything citrusy.... (not yet. harhar.) I know we all want to see 'em _finally_ have a, ahem, go, but patience my pretties, patience... If not Sano, then at least Megumi would be conscious that Kaoru's ghost is probably still flitting around, and would probably be shocked to the core of her ethereal being if she found them in the act at that particular time and place. ^.^ 

Anyway, brace yourselves for a biggie in the next one.  Sigh. Still struggling with it, but expect an update soon, nonetheless. Times like these I almost wish I had beta readers, but then my fragile ego probably couldn't handle the preliminary criticism, and I think pre-readers sort of take the fun out of suddenly unleashing a whole new installment on unsuspecting(?) audiences, so... ^.^  (blather, blather)  Anyway, hope this satisfied...  If it didn't, just complain and I'll get to damage control as soon as I can.  Not only am I at least a little biased in my favor when I proofread my fics, I'm also usually (eg tonight) bleary with lack of sleep.  Sore ni, gomen nasai yo.  ^.^


	16. Soshite Asa to Sekai wa Hajimaru

glossary:

kaiseki = formal Japanese dinner consisting of about seven to ten different courses, all very elaborately prepared and served. ^.^

maa, maa = something reassuring like "there, there."  More identified with that darling rurouni. ^.^

kikanaize = "(You're) not listening."  very informal form

che, kuso = all-around swear words ^.^;

kogitsune = literally, fox children, or baby foxes...  (doumo arigatou to kind Nadoka-san of the KFFDISCML!!)

Miburo = term for the Shinsengumi, and in this case, Saitou.  Literally (accdg to Maigo-chan's priceless manga translations), "wolf of Mibu," because Mibu was the first town in which the group that would evolve into the Shinsengumi was stationed.

aku soku zan = literally, "evil instantly kill."  Saitou's guiding principle in life.

aku ichimonji = literally, "one-word evil."  Sano's own code following the tragedy of the Sekihoutai.

shikashi, demo = but, however

Shirobeko = [just in case it's been _that_ long…] the Akabeko-like inn in Kyoto run by Tae's twin sister Sae, where the Kenshingumi stayed to recuperate after the Juppongatana trashed the Aoiya.

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Fifteen:  Soshite Asa to Sekai wa Hajimaru

 And with the morning begins the world.

"You and Yahiko will catch your deaths of cold," came the cool, crisp doctor's voice as Megumi approached.

"Is that your prognosis?"  Eager to make that his excuse to leave, Sanosuke stood up—but Megumi was already draping the heavy fur cloak over his shoulders.

 "You shan't escape me now," she said calmly.  "Sit down and help me finish all the tea I made.  It's too much for one person."

 "So I'm just food disposal now, ne?  Wouldn't mind if it were kaiseki instead."  But taking the proffered cup, Sanosuke resumed his seat, leaning back so that his face sank into shadow.

He watched her from beneath lowered eyelids.  Despite her earlier show of spirit, Megumi's eyes were downcast and her shoulders sagged beneath her thick winter robes.  He was reminded of the night Kaoru had refused treatment, when he and Kenji had talked beneath the stars of strength and ambition, and Megumi had struggled in silent solitude between her two roles of doctor and friend.

He wondered if he should do now what he had denied himself then: reach out to her, seek to comfort her with his meager presence, remind her that one other was always willing to share her suffering.  His fingers twitched yearningly on the cup.  He had already done that, after all, this evening when they had dared at last to find shelter in each other's arms—what was holding him back now?

But even as he asked this of himself, he knew the answer.  A near palpable wall stood between them now, one of tension, doubt, uncertainty, and only at her word could it be removed.  The night before, he had fondly imagined that it had disappeared at last; but now it had apparently returned, and he wondered if it were for good.  Clenching his fingers more tightly around his cup as he took his first sips, he thought wryly that the bitter taste suited him just fine.

Then he raised his eyebrows and sniffed.  An airy note floated above the earthy brown taste of the tea, a scrap of fragrance and dry, delicate flavor that had almost escaped his notice.  Brow furrowing, he took another sip and this time let the hot, clear liquid linger over his tongue before he finally swallowed.

 "Wild rose and lavender."  Megumi turned to smile tiredly.  "Speeds up circulation and clears the mind.  Good for cold nights like this one."

_Cold nights?_  Sanosuke shook his head, grinning to himself.  _Pride, Yahiko-_chan_?__  Kuso, you just might be right._  Before he could think any further, he held out his arm, the enormous fur dragging the floor from him like a cape.  "I know another way for speedin' up circulation.  Not much for clearin' the mind, though."

After a moment's hesitation, she surprised him by wordlessly nestling into his arm.  As she tucked her head below his chin, the small scent of her hair drifted by his nose and redoubled his heartbeat, which was already racing with the luxury of her nearness.

_Aa_, he sighed to himself, placing his hand on her shoulder and drawing the fur closely around them both, _speeds up circulation all right._

They said nothing for several long moments.  Sano lightly rested his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes, wishing that he could take this for a "yes" at last, that it wouldn't turn out just an island of comfort in a sea of lifelong loneliness, that he didn't dimly know that sorrow was crouched at the edges of his heart, waiting patiently for the parting that seemed inevitable.

 "Toriatama?"

He sighed.  _Here it comes._  "Hn?" he mumbled, not moving.

 "You're not just doing this for me, are you?"

 "What're you talkin' about, kitsune?"  Sano bit down on his embarrassment.  He preferred to act out how he felt, not talk about it.  "'Course this is for you."

 "What I meant was..."  She looked up at him directly.  "Not just for me, but for yourself too?"

 "Che."  Sano knew from the heat in his face that he was blushing; he would have hated it, except that it seemed to give Megumi inordinate pleasure.  "You know my answer to that."

She looked away and seemed disappointed.  Sano sighed.  "Aa, it's for myself too.  If you really want to know, kitsune"—_now if _this_ ain't strength I don't know what is, havin' to look into her eyes when she looks at me like that_—"I think I'll be relivin' this night every day for the rest o' my life, just to keep me goin'."

Now it was her turn to flush and drop her gaze, and Sano realized he, too, found that the warm color in her pale face lent him a glow of satisfaction.  "This isn't pity, Megitsune, if that's what you're afraid of."  A faint smile curved her lips at that, and he knew he had hit home.  "It's whatever you want it to be."

 "Is it, now?"  She sat up, clutching the fur warmly about her, and leveled at him a somber cinnamon gaze.  "Sanosuke, can you honestly say that you won't go?  You won't get into trouble again that will force you into hiding?  You won't get bored with a quiet life in a provincial town, or dissatisfied with a wife who _isn't_ a steady, domestic little housekeeper, but who stays at work till late and can get called away at any hour of the day or night, who's too tired sometimes to make a proper dinner even just for herself, who might spend more time in a week at the hospital than at home?  Who might not be able to bear children anymore, who's old and impatient and stubborn and selfish and... and too weak to know how she'll be able to keep going now that Ken-san and Kaoru-chan are both gone, everyone else so far away, and... and..."

And Megumi looked away hurriedly to try to hide the hot tears stinging her cheeks.  But Sanosuke stroked her hair and gently turned her face back to his; he tried to pull her back to himself, but she went rigid at his touch and fought his pressure on her shoulders.  He sighed, dabbing at her wet cheeks with the hem of his jacket.

 "Maa, maa."  He startled even himself with the softness and gentleness in his voice; Megumi lifted watery eyes to him in her surprise and let slip a tiny sob.  This time she did not resist as he enfolded her in his arms, pressed her wet cheek against his shirt.  "Sumanu, kitsune."

She stilled for a moment.  "For all my stupid mistakes," he quietly said in answer to her unspoken question.  "For taking so long now to make up my mind, when we coulda been makin' dozens of babies already, so that you wouldn't be worryin' by now."

The slap that reddened his cheek was as halfhearted as it was harmless, and Sano chuckled.  Megumi was cute but disturbing when she cried; he preferred her usual coy and insulting, if occasionally abusive, ways.  He held her quietly, idly noting that the sky was beginning to lighten, until her crying faded to an occasional sniffle.

 "I don't know how I'll convince you with just words," he murmured.  "They always seem so stupid and slippery to me, compared to actions.  Maybe that's why I never really wrote you guys, but saved everything up for when I got back.  But I'll do what I can.  This'll take some time, though, 'cause I guess I gotta start from the start, so you might fall asleep."

She shook her head mutely.  He ran his fingers through her long hair, relishing the crispness of the fine strands against his calloused palm.

 "Ne, Megitsune, before I left, I wanted to ask you the same kind of questions too.  Would you want a lazy, jobless moocher of a gambler and drunkard to be yours?  Would you lower yourself to marrying a farmer's boy who spent ten years beating up people for a living?  Who knew nothing but fighting and womanizing?"  At the muffled half-laugh that gusted against his shirt, he grinned ruefully.  "I never asked, 'cause I always knew what you'd say, and I wanted to save myself the humiliation of the truth.  So this bonehead finally decided to go away and think for a while, and maybe see if he could still be someone half worthy of a lady like you."

He smiled to himself.  "It took me a while to see it, but I really depended on Kenshin.  I was an idiot who needed something right there all the time to remind him of what he really wanted out of life, that it wasn't just sake and dice and"—he scratched his head sheepishly—"low-level chicks.  That was why, when Kenshin left for Kyoto, I wasn't about to let even Saitou hold me back; and when he went to Rakuninmura for a while, I just snapped.  I realized, later on, that that was the same thing that happened when I lost Sagara-taichou.  And when Kenshin hooked up finally with Jou-chan, I knew I couldn't ask him to define the world for me anymore—he had to define a whole new world then for the two of 'em, and I had to take off and be my own man for a change.  It was somethin' I'd been avoidin' for a long time, and it was time to face it down, if I had to wander ten more years to figure it out."

Megumi shut her burning eyes to listen more intently; his low, thoughtful tones vibrated pleasantly in his chest against her cheek.

 "Well, ten years turned into fifteen, and I saw you in New York an' all, and I was wonderin' if I could still go back, with—well, I thought you were married already, an' I wasn't sure if I could take it.  Then I went someway out west, tryin' to take my mind off things, and I helped out the natives for a while—the white government was movin' in and takin' away their land, wipin' them out just 'cause they didn't have as many guns.  That was damn good fun for a while."  Sano grinned darkly with the memory.  "I saw their government could be just as crooked as ours, and that fired me up.  I struck up a funny kind of friendship with this squaw—I didn't wanna see it for the longest time, but she really reminded me of you:  a real wildcat sometimes, but when she took back her claws she was... well, never mind," he said abruptly, remembering to whom he was speaking.

Megumi flicked away a sudden, disturbing thought.  "So I'm a wildcat, am I?" she purred instead in mock menace.  Sano grinned down at her glinting eyes.

 "Iya.  Kikanaize.  She was a wildcat, you're a fox.  There's a difference."

 "Hmph.  And _you_ are a birdbrain.  Now go on about this squaw of yours.  Does she have a name?"

 "Hai, hai."  Sano meekly rubbed his sore ear.  "So, anyway..."  He paused, gathering his memories, his voice growing soft again with remembrance.  "She was called Fire Eagle, but I just called her Steam Engine, 'cause her kick felt like a train at full speed.  We had a lot of fun playin' crazy tricks on the whites.  I told her all about Taichou and Kenshin and Jou-chan and you and even Saitou.  Then... she got hit once while we were escapin' from a bad job.  She was pretty bad for a while, and we thought she'd never get better.  She healed finally, but she couldn't go back to how she used to be.

 "She talked to me once, asked me if I wasn't goin' back.  I told her I... didn't really know if I had anything to go back to.  I told her I wanted to stay with her and... everyone else.  But she told me to leave.

 "'This isn't what you're meant for,' she said, so kind I forgot to be mad at her for makin' my decisions for me.  'You're a great help, but really, Eastern Storm'—they call me Storm from the East over there—'this isn't your fight.  You're only running away, and you know it.'  Che, if she hadn't been so torn up after that shot, I woulda given her hell for what she said.  'Cause it was true, though I hadn't wanted to say so.

 "I took off a bit after that to think about it, and when I came back she knew I'd made up my mind to go.  She was right.  I wasn't meant to help out a different people while my own suffered at home.  Running away betrayed the Sekihoutai _and_ the Kenshingumi, and I didn't wanna let those go, when they've been the only things I can mold myself to and be proud of even while everything else is changin'.  And if I had to face you with a house fulla screamin' kogitsune"—she raised her head to glare up at him—"well, it was my loss and your gain.  She gave me Fuuko—it was her own mount, but 'cause of that bullet, she'd never ride again.  I didn't wanna take him at first, but she wouldn't let me go unless I did.

 "So I wandered back to these parts.  I knew now what I wanted to do and where I wanted to do it, but I wasn't real sure yet just how, an' I didn't want to go stumblin' around again when I got home—I wanted somethin' to show for all that time away.  So I spent some time back in China, and got the news from Katsu that Saitou'd been mysteriously 'lost' on one of his assignments."

 "Hai," said Megumi softly.  "I only heard it from Kaoru-chan myself.  I heard from Kaoru, though," she chuckled, "that Ken-san never quite believed that old Miburo was so mortal."

 "I doubt it myself."  Sano grinned.  "But, well... it got me thinkin', somehow.  I'm not as wily as that wolf, and we work from totally different angles.  I don't think I can be in the secret police like he was.  Katsu's the one who's good at that stuff.  But even though I'm not as strong as Saitou, my strength can still count for somethin'.  And 'aku soku zan' ain't so far from 'aku ichimonji'."

Realization pierced the fog of weariness in Megumi's mind; startled with the sudden thought, she looked up.  He smiled down at her, waiting for her to speak.

 "Please don't tell me," she muttered in disbelief, "you'll be a… _cop_?"

He deflated a little under her frank astonishment.  "I still think the government's fulla liars and weaklings, and it's been wafflin' on the gaijin issues... anou... shikashi..."

Megumi burst out into a merry laugh—the first real, fresh laughter Sano had heard from her since his return.  _Too bad she's havin' it at my expense,_ he thought irritably, then sighed.  Better this than sorrow and exhaustion.

 "Gomen, gomen!"  She had apparently taken his sigh for one of frustration.  Holding out her hands, she smiled up at him pleadingly.  "That sounded much worse than I intended.  You took me by surprise, that's all.  I never in my wildest dreams had you figured for a police officer, Sagara Sanosuke," she teased.  "I thought you'd had enough of them chasing you, locking you up, and calling you 'ahou.'"

 "Kuso, kitsune, you really know where to hit a guy," growled Sano, his annoyance more feigned than real.

 "Gomen ne.  But honestly, this has to be one of the best surprises of the new era.  I can hear Ken-san going 'oro' from here."  Megumi chuckled behind her sleeve as he glowered at her.

 "I know it's crazy, all right?  I talked about it with Katsu when I got back.  He looked like he was gonna rip my head off."  Sanosuke sighed.  "I got lousy taste in friends."

 "And you got this one entirely by chance, too."  She tweaked his other ear.  "Did he do anything else?"

 "Well, after about ten minutes o' rantin', he finally did, seein' as how I was serious.  He said he'd snoop around the offices for me; he doesn't hate the government any less after fifteen years, but they owed him for some tipoffs in the past.  Yesterday he and I talked; there's this one clean guy in Internal Affairs he actually respects.  I just have to show up at his office for formality soon's I'm free, but I've pretty much got the job."

Megumi had to smile at the note of earnest satisfaction in his voice—she had been hearing it often in the past few weeks, but it hadn't been there before he'd left, and it was still quite new to her.

 "Congratulations, toriatama," she said solemnly.

 "Arigatou—kitsune."  He smiled back.

 "Demo…"  She looked away, watched in fascination the gradual fade of slate gray sky to pale, sunless blue.

 "Megitsune?" he prompted quietly when she said nothing more.

She lowered her gaze to the long-forgotten teapot, its contents now hopelessly cold.  "If he hires you here in Tokyo… I don't suppose there's much chance of you getting assigned anywhere else."  A beat.  "Like Aizu."

He stared at her.

Her cheeks were bright pink, her head bowed so that her eyes were hidden.

 "Megumi…"

Her smile was faint.   "Like you, I didn't know how much I was relying on the strength of others.  Unlike you, I'm only beginning to see it now.  I've tried not to get too close to people all these years, because I've always been the one left behind by myself, and I've been trapped in the fear that I can't take any more.  Demo."  She lifted shiny cinnamon eyes to him at last.  "If you'll lend me your strength until I find my own again, the way Kaoru-chan found hers... I'll ask you to forgive my silly stubbornness and remember what you said you felt for me—if you still can."

 "Megitsune..."

With a light fingertip, he chased a tear down her cheek; then, impulsively, he hugged her, as she laughed and sniffled and held him just as tightly.

 "Megumi, it wouldn't matter to me whether we lived on top of the Shirobeko with a dozen kids or in Hokkaido with just a coupla cows.  And Kami-sama knows I've lived long enough by myself to not really care about fancy dinners.  I'm gonna miss my kitsune all the time she'll be too busy for me, but that's how she is, and I wouldn't have her any other way.  Just plain havin' her'll be good enough to keep me goin' for everything I ever learned from everyone I ever met."

Subsiding at last during this final speech of his, she listened quietly with her head on his shoulder, stroking his soft untamed hair, remembering how they had held each other only the other night.

 "There's still so much of you that I have yet to understand," she whispered.  "So much that's changed, that I didn't see in you before.  And yet—so much that's still oddly the same.  It's fascinated me, and troubled me, for so long."  She smiled wistfully.  "I wonder if I shall ever really know you again, toriatama.  If I'll ever gain back fifteen years of us apart."

He raised her hand to his lips, brushed a kiss across the pale, smooth skin.  "I think we've still got plenty of time."

Sitting together in the slowly lifting stillness, neither felt like moving, not even to retire to a more comfortable bed.  Sanosuke started awake just as morning burst upon them in a rare moment of winter sunshine.  Carefully cradling Megumi in his arms, he carried her back to her room and slipped into her ready embrace in the warmth of her blankets, as the rest of the dojo came to life.

~ tsuzuku ~

**A/N.**  Can you say "heavy"?  T.T  But at least that's finally settled.... wai!!

Stumped again for a chapter title, I finally found salvation in Chobits...  The title has been shamelessly ripped off the title of a shamelessly cute OST track.  I hardly expected the title of such a quiet, cheerful song to fit the theme of this particular installment, but hey, it ain't so bad, is it? ^.^  The cows in Hokkaido are also my tiny little tribute to Hideki (fight! ^.^) in that totally kakkoi series which is also, sadly, very short.

**redbandana** asked about a "long chapter" on Sano and Megumi, so... this is about as long as it gets. ^.^  As always, I hope this pleased—no OOCness or bases I forgot to cover.  And oh yes, Saitou is dead... or is he? ^.^

The allusion to the American Indians is, erm, not as well-researched as it ought to be... gomen gomen! (sweatdropping heavily) I do know the Montana Indians were still fighting for their lands in the 1870s... Is it so impossible that there was still such conflicts into the 1890s? (Here's hoping it isn't.)  It just seemed like the kind of thing Sano would go for.  Please pardon this pimply college student who has her hands quite full already with her own country's history this semester... ^.^;

And then of course... Sanosuke the cop? Hrm. @.@  Since this authoress stubbornly refuses to admit the impossibility of Sano holding down a decent job (_not_ conducive to a truly happy ending!), she'll have him follow in Saitou's footsteps now.  Who cares if he's 34 and kinda, maybe, just a teeny bit, past the recruitment/training age?  He can beat up a whole mountain of yakuza anyday.


	17. Infinitely High and CrystalClear

**A/N.**  So sorry to everyone who thought the last chapter was, um, the last!! ^.^ Yep, gotta keep tabs on our blushing couple yet. Which will be so fun that... the rating's gone up!  From PG to a near-R.  Let's add a bit of fruit to our diets.  Mustn't miss out on those vitamins.  ^.^

glossary:

mou = general expression of frustration/annoyance.  In the series, originally a Kaoruism.

onegai = please

yokatta = Yay!  That's great!

naze = why?

Kami-sama = God

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Sixteen:  Infinitely High and Crystal-Clear

A tall, lean man lounged at the window, drawing occasionally on a freshly rolled cigarette, narrowed eyes scanning the pavement far below and the various men walking to and fro.

His secretary's droning filled the background, as it did everyday.  A twenty-four-year-old hired more for his guileless loyalty, ready industry, and instinctive obedience than any particular skill or ability, he was reading reports out loud one after another—a dull and tiring task, but one he dared not neglect; his boss seemed to hear every word even asleep, and pounced on him in the most trouser-wetting way if he skipped so much as a sentence.

 "Ahou."

The young man stopped, his mouth still open in mid-read.  His boss was still at the window, but he had stopped leaning against the frame and now stood gazing out alertly, his muscular build, still impressive at forty-eight, taut with an obvious tension.

 "Go down and ask Asuhito what's become of his new recruit."

The secretary vanished precipitately, and soon returned puffing with a few papers clutched in a trembling hand; for he had been running all the while.

 "Feh."  Ash flicked into a little white bowl as his boss took the papers from him.  "Tomorrow onward you'll wear gloves in this office.  You get sweat on everything."

He turned abruptly away to read by the window as his flushed secretary plopped back into his seat, hastily wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

Moments later, he dropped the handkerchief with a start upon hearing, for the first time, what would be one of the most blindingly frightening sounds in his life.

His boss was laughing.

Feral yellow eyes narrowed to black-fringed slits, guttural, menacing laughter coarsened by years of nicotine and tar—it was a nightmare that conjured visions of spattering blood and glittering steel.  Thankfully, it was a nightmare soon over.  The secretary—having resumed sweating—jumped slightly as the sheaf of papers landed on his desk.

 "Ahou, stop twitching at every little thing.  When I get annoyed, I tend to get violent."  A long drag on a fresh cigarette; sharp canine teeth bared in a rare grin.  "Now take down a message for Asuhito.  Tell him I want reports every two weeks on the new recruit—his training, his missions, his investi... no, forget that, he shouldn't be given any investigations."  The secretary hesitated in his scribbling; his boss had said the last words with a quiet amusement, as though to himself.  "Emphasis on training," his boss barked, seeing that the young man's hands were no longer moving.  "Tell him to make sure the recruit knows defense.  And if he passes muster—which is a big 'if'—then to station him in Aizu, if that's what he asks for.  We lack manpower over there anyway."

The secretary waited a few more minutes to see if anything else was forthcoming.  His boss had turned away again, smoking imperturbably at the window.  The young man wondered if he were smiling; he shivered at the thought.

 "Tell him the higher offices will be _quite_ interested in the progress of this new addition."

When the eerie laughter began again, the secretary quickly decided that immediate personal delivery of the message would be best.

 "You're leaving?!"

Megumi looked somewhat dazedly around her at the varied responses that met her announcement.  Misao was openly disappointed, while Aoshi nonchalantly munched on his rice; Takako and Akiko looked ready to cry.  Even Kenji seemed mildly upset.  Yahiko merely appeared resigned, and Tsubame's smile was doubly cheerful as she passed the doctor's newly filled rice bowl back to her, as if to say, "Well, best to make your journey on a full stomach, then."  Sanosuke, to whom the news was no longer news, went on picking at his dried radish.

 "I thought you were going to spend the winter here with everyone," said Misao mournfully.

 "Sumanai desu yo.  But winter is always busy for the hospital, they need all the help they can get; and six months' leave is all I can afford to take."  Megumi sighed near-inaudibly as she ate; she was trying to convince herself as well as them, but the truth was that she would have preferred the noise and warmth of the dojo over her solitary apartment back home.

 "Akira will be disappointed."  Yahiko grinned.  "First it was you and Sano, and now you're leaving."

 "The dear boy has been preparing my tea and running all my errands for the last three months.  I suppose he deserves a proper goodbye.  Ohh-hohohohohoh!"  And Sanosuke glared over his fish and everyone else sweatdropped as the kitsune's ears—which had not been seen in some time—popped into sight.

 "I've half a mind to go to Aizu too," volunteered Misao.  "They say the swans on Lake Inawashiro are really pretty!  Ne, Aoshi-sama?"

At first, Aoshi perplexed the others with the warning look he lifted to his wife; but then Takako's eyes lit up at the thought of swans, and when both mother and daughter began pleading with him to see Aizu, suddenly everyone understood.  Seeing a similar enthusiasm spark ominously in Akiko's eyes, Yahiko hastily sought to change the subject.

 "Ne, Sanosuke, you went to see that government guy this morning, didn't you?  What's up with that?"

 "Oh, that!"  Smiling sheepishly, Sano scratched his head, trying not to look too pleased with himself.  "Well, I've got to start training by next week.  The guy said it usually takes around six months for a fighter like me, but if I do really well, I could be done in maybe half that time, so..."  He trailed off with a meaningful look at Megumi which she pretended not to see.

 "Mou!  Aren't you going to get married already?"  Misao shook her head at them disapprovingly.  "Don't you two think you've waited long enough?"

 "Anou... well... ahahaha..."

Seeing that a bright red blush and a huge shit-eating grin were competing for space on Sano's face, Megumi decided to speak up.  "We're quite used to waiting, so a few more months shouldn't hurt."  From the looks everyone else was giving her, Megumi realized she herself was blushing.  _All this talk about marriage is so embarrassing._  "We still need to plan some things out.  But of course you're all invited to the wedding in the summer."

Misao was getting shimmery-eyed and sniffly, clutching at Aoshi, who quietly laid a hand on hers but otherwise seemed as perfectly undisturbed as usual.

 "It's so nice to have a wedding to look forward to!" she sighed happily.

 "And will we see the swans, 'tousan?  Onegaaaaai?" pressed Takako.

Aoshi hesitated, then smiled down at his daughter.  "Aa."

 "Yokatta!  Arigatou, 'tousan!"  And Takako hugged her father as far as her short arms could reach, looking very like a miniature Misao.  "But Akiko-chan and Shin-ya-chan and Heishiro-chan should come too!" she added as an afterthought, smiling across the room at the children who had been her untiring playmates.

Yahiko sweatdropped for the umpteenth time that lunch as Akiko began to plead with her mother to let her go with the Shinomoris.

 "Must be Jou-chan's ghost still floating around here," Sanosuke muttered to her out the corner of his mouth.

Megumi smiled and nodded.  "Must be."

One evening a week later, the Akabeko closed off their upper floor early for a party to send off Megumi.  Sanosuke surprised everyone by insisting on paying for some of the provisions—and surprised no one when his part of the bill turned out to be the sake.  Tae, mindful that some might find such festivities inappropriate after the recent tragedy, made sure to keep the affair quite secret—a feat that amazed those who knew her.  She and her family joined the fun before the night was over.

Aoshi walked the children home well before midnight.  Yahiko and Tsubame decided to spend the night at the inn, but there was no more room for the others; and so Misao, Megumi, and Sanosuke walked home under the high moon.  When Misao vanished soon after they arrived at the dojo, Sano simply shrugged, winking at Megumi; she smothered a laugh, went to her room, and pointedly shut the door in his face.

Sanosuke, too, retired, smiling to himself in resignation.  He had held back somewhat at the party, not wanting Megumi's last memory of him for some months to be that of a hung-over sleepyhead; but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he wondered if he had perhaps overdone it.  He was wide awake.

For long minutes he lay staring at the ceiling, wondering if he should go back and follow up on the bottles he had stashed away for future use.  He tossed and turned every few minutes, the fact of his undue alertness nagging at him quietly.  Beneath him the wood very slightly creaked with every movement.

Outside, bamboo squeaked and groaned in a brisk breeze.

Something else groaned.  Sano froze.

After a moment, he shook his head ruefully.  _Bamboo.  Funny how sometimes it still sounds like a human being, even though I've been hearing it nearly all my life..._

He froze again.  That had definitely not been bamboo.  It hadn't been a groan, either—it had sounded more like... a short, soft cry.  And it came from Megumi's room.

He sat up and then held still, uncertain what to do.  Megumi didn't sound as though she were in trouble. From what he had heard of that abrupt, brief sound, it was more of frustration and anger than any fear.  And the slightly inebriated kitsune-onna would not appreciate him barging into her room in the dead of night intending to play hero.  For another few minutes he sat still in the darkness, ears pricked for any further signals of distress.

None came.  He let out a snort of derision at his own imaginings.  The wooden boards protesting mousily underneath him, he flopped back down on the futon and pulled the covers up around him, determined to go to sleep before it got any later.  

Scarcely had he shut his eyes when he heard light footsteps stop outside his door, a light hand knock softly.  For a moment he thought about lying still and feigning sleep—but changed his mind.  After all, it would be months before they saw each other again, and it wasn't like Megumi to wake people with trivial concerns.

He opened his eyes again and got to his feet, trying to ignore the ideas that kept popping into his head, making his heart pound as he strode over the door.

He slid open the door.  Megumi stood outside, limned in cloud-dusked moonlight.  Her long straight hair looked the way a stream did in the darkest midnight, waters shifting in slight degrees of shadow.  Peeking out from slightly mussed strands, her pale face bloomed like the full moon, radiance punctuated by her unpainted, unsmiling, rosy mouth and her dark shadowed eyes staring straight up at him.  Sanosuke would never forget her like this.

 "Gomen ne, toriatama," she said quietly.  "I know it's late, but I thought you were still awake."

 "I was. Naze, daijoubu, kitsune?"

A smile haunted her mouth for a moment, when he said the old nickname, then it disappeared. Her hand was a flash of white movement, and then she shocked him to the core of his being by curving her palm around the back of his neck and gently pushing him down for a kiss that he intuitively knew was far different from that of a week ago.

Soft lips met his as his mind stumbled around in abject astonishment.  Was Megumi this drunk?  Was she doing what he thought she was doing?  And—_ah, Kami-sama_—did she have to smell and taste so good?

She would have pulled away after only some moments of light, breathtaking kiss, but he held her in place with large strong hands angled along her jaw.  At that moment all Sano knew was that this kiss was too damn good to stop.  And though apprehension shot through his befogged brain for a split second, it melted away when she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth even harder against his.

Sanosuke's body had bypassed the shocked daze of his mind and gone straight to arousal, his skin tingling wildly wherever it encountered hers, his nose savoring every breath of Megumi's rose scent.  When her hot, wet tongue moistened his lips, he felt his body flash hot and then cold.

Somehow he managed to push her away.  She stumbled only very slightly, but enough for her full, unfettered breasts to bob beneath her yukata.  

_Kami-sama._  He cursed the masculine instincts in him that hadn't failed to notice this enticing detail as he forced himself to look up at her face.  Her mouth was set in a firm line, but her eyes were smoldering with something he found he liked altogether too much.

 "Megitsune..." His voice was rough from the late hour and the desire that pulsated in every inch of his skin.  "Please tell me just what the hell you're doing."

 "Why, what does it look, toriatama?"  She smiled up at him coyly, tracing his jaw with her fingertip till he shuddered.  "I'm seducing you.  We've waited long enough, I think."

 "Che, Megumi, this isn't..."  He made himself look away, look anywhere else but her and the way the moon came out of the clouds at that precise moment to shine through her flimsy robe, neatly outlining her sublimely curved body.   "You know I want this too, but..."

 "Sano."  She stepped toward him, dangerously close.  With an effort he looked back at her, into her cool, clear eyes.  "I trust you.  I love you.  And I'll marry you.  Now will you let me in before I die of cold, or do we have to stay frustrated for another three months?"

Cold fingers met warm palms as they pressed into his hands the ends of her tied belt.

He looked down at the ends of the belt, up at her pure white face, and made up his mind.

Megumi's muffled laughter as he tugged her inside was not of the fox this night, but of the very happy woman.

~ tsuzuku ~

**A/N.**  Whee!  First a little comedy, then a little smut...  Your reward for sticking with this very dramatic/angsty romance to this near-end! ^.^

Unfortunately, the very kind people at FFnet don't much like lemons anymore.  For a purely gratuitous chapter with more than enough of your recommended daily allowance of Megumi/Sano-brand Vitamin C, reorient your browser to www(dot)geocities(dot)com/la_puente/yoakemaelemon(dot)htm .   I promise the page will be up shortly.  ^.^  If you're not the lemon-loving type, feel free to not read it.  It's not that integral to the story.  (Although a tiny little secret _will_ be revealed about Sano, but it is, again, not integral to the story.)


	18. Omisoka

**A/N.**  The eve of December 31, the last day of the Westernized Japanese year, is a very important holiday for the Japanese.  It's the longest holiday they've got, often extending to a whole week of festivities to mark the new year, or Omisoka.

December is sometimes called "Shiwasu," since work is allowed to stop in this month.  Basically, on what we know as New Year's Eve, they clean out their houses (_susu harai_) put up traditional home decorations to ward off evil and entice good fortune for the coming year.  The family gathers to eat a dinner of _toshikoshi soba_, a noodle dish that symbolizes long life and prosperity, as well as whatever other food they decide to have.

Then they wait for midnight, when temple bells start to toll 108 times (_joya no kane_), to signify the (hoped-for) liberation of man from Buddhism's 108 desires (attachment to which basically causes human suffering).  They wish one another a happy new year and then pray at the temple (or their house shrine) for their wishes for the new year.  In some areas, people compete to get to the temple first, because they believe that the first wish/prayer to be made at a temple after midnight has, so to speak, higher chances of being granted.  Kirei, ne?  Credit to those webpages that I got this information from. ^.^

glossary:

-baasan (obaasan) = suffix denoting a grandmother-type person

kadomatsu = a traditional New Year's plant decoration of bamboo, pine, and straw symbolizing longevity, prosperity, and purity; believed to attract good fortune for the coming year

shimekazari = another decoration hung over the front door; indicates a purified place to welcome the "toshigami," or deities of the new year; believed to bring happiness and ward off evil

soba = thin, grayish buckwheat noodles

tomete yo. = stop!, plain form

atashi mo. = "me too."  "Atashi" is used almost exclusively by females.

gaijin = foreigner(s)

-basan = suffix denoting an aunt-type relationship

hashi = chopsticks

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Seventeen:  Omisoka

Sitting down with her third cup of tea for the evening, Megumi heaved a sigh and eyed the stack of papers on top of her desk with distaste.

The clock read eleven o'clock, which meant she had been doing paperwork for the last two and a half hours.  On New Year's Eve.  Megumi took off her spectacles and sat back, closing bleary eyes.  

 "Takani-sensei?  Are you all right?" came a solicitous voice.  Megumi found an elderly woman bearing a small tray peering in her open door.

She quickly  rose to her feet with a smile.  "I'm fine, Keiko-baasan.  Just a little tired, but it's nothing to worry about.  How is your husband doing?"

The older woman beamed.  "He's all right, talking now with my son who just arrived from Nara."  She appeared to hesitate, then bowed low.  "I'm sorry that it's a very poor sort of celebration, but if Takani-sensei would care to join us in the room for the toshikoshi soba, we would be very honored to have her company.  It's the least we can do when you've looked so well after us."

Megumi stifled a sigh.  This wouldn't be the first time she would spend Omisoka with a family not her own.  Most of her recent New Year'ses would have been celebrated alone, were it not for friends who went out of their way to include her in the traditional rituals.  Then as now, Megumi was torn between feeling touched by their sympathy and embarrassed that they should take pity on her in her solitude.  But this anxiously smiling old wife of one of her humblest patients, she felt, could not be refused.

 "I would hate to get in the way of your private gathering, though," Megumi murmured.

 "Oh, but you've been so kind to Hirobu, he talks about you like a daughter already.  We're the ones who must apologize that we can't share with you anything grander."  Keiko bowed again affably, well-lined face creasing further into pleased wrinkles.  "You will indulge this old couple's wish, won't you, dear?"

Megumi smiled and bowed in return.  "I cannot possibly decline your kind hospitality, obaasan."

 "Nobody ought to spend Omisoka alone, especially not you, my dear, when you already feel like family to us.  Do come by our room when you're free, then, and we'll be only too happy to have you."  And the old woman gracefully bowed herself out of the room.

Megumi half smiled to herself at the old lady's innocent words.  _You already feel like family to us._  The Murasakis were not natives of Aizu, had in fact settled in the area only a few years before; Megumi had little reason to suspect that they knew anything about her past, about the vanished family with whom she should have been eating the traditional soba tonight.  But on this night of all nights, kindness from yet another compassionate acquaintance weighted her heart with a hollow, chill sadness she tried to assuage by clasping the cup of hot tea to her chest.

She still observed the old rituals; if nothing else, it felt too much like a betrayal of her own lineage to neglect them.  And so, on the last day of the year, Megumi had assiduously cleaned her apartment—had grappled with the tatami mats that were a little too wide for her arms' reach, had scrubbed every inch of flooring spotless—placed the kadomatsu by the entrance, and hung the shimekazari.  She had even made some toshikoshi soba of her own.  Then—as she did nearly every year—she had packed the soba carefully and brought it to the hospital, cheerfully sending home the skeleton crew of nurses and assistants who were clearly torn between their duty to their families and their self-imposed duty to keep the hospital open much later than usual, in order to accommodate whatever emergencies might occur.

They protested, of course, but as always Megumi insisted that she, at least, was of better use at the hospital than at home.  And, as always, she was finally left in the quiet stillness of the hospital, tending to the few patients too ill to leave for the traditional temple visits.  She would leave when the overnight nurses began trickling back to work.  But, as always, Megumi wasn't quite sure whether she longed for or dreaded the return to her apartment, whose restfulness was due to its emptiness.

Although the Aizu winter was cold as ever on this last night of the year, she preferred to keep the window in her office partly open.  She liked feeling fresh air tickle her cheeks, and as midnight approached, she amused herself by looking out at the people walking toward the temples, dressed in their most festive clothing.  Brightly decorated lanterns often bobbed from their hands, more for tradition than for any practical use since electric lamps already provided ample light along the streets.

Decorum forbade that she should keep the kind Murasakis waiting while the soba got cold; but Megumi lingered at the window, unable to remove her gaze from the street outside.  Deeper in her heart than she wanted to admit, she knew that this year, she wasn't watching just the lanterns and the kimonos.

_Tomete yo!_  Megumi shook her head with a frown, willing herself at last to move away from the window, to tear her gaze and her thoughts from the people outside.  _He'll be at the dojo with Yahiko and Kenji, wolfing down everything in sight, as usual.  He never said anything about coming here, anyway.  He'll be here when he can get here... in the spring, he said.  I just have to be patient..._

She sighed.  It was now almost a month of saying much the same thing over and over to herself.  Moving quickly over to her desk, she clicked off the electric lamp, decisively consigning her office with its unfinished paperwork to the darkness.  It _was_ Shiwasu after all.

She was just heading out the door, affixing her best "Happy New Year!" smile to her face, when the faint clatter of horse's hoofs out in the street caught her hearing.

She stilled in the doorway, listening intently.  Sure enough, the hoofs rapidly grew louder and soon turned onto the brick-laid driveway of the hospital.  Thoughts of soba abandoned for the moment, Megumi snatched up a clean smock that hung near her door and hurried out of her office and down the stairs.  Frantic visits such as this were the reason she insisted on keeping the hospital open all night despite the holidays; with all the other clinics in town closed and their residents at the temples, the Sanada hospital was the only option left for accidents and unexpected illnesses.

Hurrying along the hall, she heard a shrill, familiar voice echoing from the lobby.  The rather high-strung, unmarried sister of a patient on the third floor, she occasionally went out on the hospital grounds to smoke a cigarette, since it was prohibited inside the building.  As Megumi's quick pace brought her closer to the lobby, the woman's nasal voice became clearer, sounding annoyed.

 "—She's upstairs, but she doesn't see anyone unless it's something serious.  It's New Year's Eve, for heaven's sake.  You can wait another week..."

 "Morisawa-san, is there a problem?" said Megumi briskly, turning the corner and bracing for the worst.  Then she stopped dead with a little gasp, her eyes widening.

Sanosuke stood in the wide doorway, looming over the petulant woman who stared up at him defiantly, seemingly unintimidated by his great height and build and the rich, albeit travel-worn cloak that hung from his shoulders.  He had been staring rather desperately down at the woman when Megumi arrived, but had quickly looked up at the doctor's approach; and the intensity of his eyes—relief and satisfaction shifting swiftly in their gaze—and the quick open grin burned clear through her mind as she stood absolutely still in the hallway, staring at him in stark astonishment.

Morisawa took her amazement for displeasure; she gave Sano a triumphant little grin.  "Shall I see him out, Takani-san?" she said archly, placing fists on her hips.

 "Oi, _Takani-sensei_," Sano drawled teasingly past the irate woman, "couldja tell her please to let me through?"

It took all of Megumi's self-control to keep herself from running across the hall into his embrace like a girl; it took all of her charm to persuade Morisawa that Sanosuke was not just another loiterer hoping to catch a glimpse of the bewitching onna-sensei with which to bless the coming year.  Megumi ushered Sanosuke into her office, away from Morisawa's sharp eyes, chattering cheerily all the while about the hospital, the patients spending the holidays in confinement, the invitation for the traditional soba—and sputtered to a halt when he abuptly gathered her into his arms, burying his face in her hair.

 "I've missed you."

Warm breath tickled the fine hairs on the back of her neck.  Closing her eyes, Megumi rested her cheek against the warm, strong, silk-covered chest and gave a long, shivering sigh.  "Atashi mo."

 "Did I surprise ya?"

He sounded like a little boy, eager to know if his gift had pleased.  Megumi laughed and nodded.  "Yes, you did.  I wasn't expecting you till spring.  That is"—she chuckled—"I was _trying_ not to expect you before spring.  I wasn't succeeding very well, though."

 "Sorry I'm late.  Fuuko cut the time by half, but first Tae roped me into helping get a huge pine tree for the Akabeko—silly foreign customs, for the Western customers and all that.  She's been workin' me out haulin' trees everyday to her place since Christmas.  I told her you're supposed to take it down the day right after, but apparently the gaijin like to see something so familiar at the inn.  Then I wasted time stoppin' by your apartment first, I didn't know you'd be here..."

He sounded truly apologetic.  Megumi interrupted him with a chuckle, fondly rubbing his back through his shirt.

 "It's all right.  You're here now, ne?"

And for a good long while, that was all that mattered, as their lips met in a hungry kiss heavy with weeks of unsated wanting.

 "Megitsune."

 "...Mm?"

 "I hate to ruin the moment, too, but some old lady just came by.  She's gone now, but she looked pretty poleaxed."

Obaasan.

The soba.

Omisoka.

Megumi came to herself with a small gasp, pulling reluctantly away from the warm shelter of Sano's arms.  "Keiko-baasan!  She must have wondered why I didn't..."  She paused, suddenly indecisive, knowing she was obliged to respond however belatedly to the old woman's invitation, yet wary of what might meet her there.  A thirty-seven-year-old spinster doctor found liplocked with an unknown man was a guarantee for scandal.

 "Should I disappear?"  Sano's dark eyes searched her own.

 "Iie," she said without thinking, clutching tightly at his hand as it started to slip from her grasp.  Then she looked up at him, her rosy, kiss-swollen mouth set.  "It won't matter.  Things will be known soon anyway—"

At first it irritated her that he was not looking down at her, but away toward the door; but then the clink of ceramic reached her ears, and she too glanced in that direction just in time to catch a glimpse of Keiko-baasan's leaf-print kimono whisking away out of sight.

 "Obaasan?"  As she hurried to the door, she cursed the unexpected plaintive tone in her voice; she sounded like a girl caught with an illicit lover, now begging for a mother's understanding.  But down the hall, the door to Keiko and Hirobu's room slid firmly shut.  Megumi was left for a moment staring down an empty corridor, unease gnawing at her insides.

 "Oei, she left somethin' here.  Smells pretty good, too."

She turned to find Sanosuke eagerly poking among the covered bowls and dishes on a tray that had not been there ten minutes ago.  Megumi lifted the lid off one large bowl and caught her breath in surprise.

 "Toshikoshi soba..."

 "Two bowls and two hashi."  Sanosuke grinned.

Megumi, looking up at the open satisfaction on his face, could not help but chuckle back.  _Arigatou, obaasan._  As she carried the tray into the office, she smiled back at Sano over her shoulder.  "How long has it been since you last had this, toriatama?"

As she stooped to set the tray down on a low table by the window, she was startled by his long arms suddenly encircling her, large warm hands covering hers.

 "Far too long, kitsune," he growled in her ear, and this time Megumi made sure the door was shut before she turned to him with a sly smile.

 "How long are you staying?" she murmured against his mouth.

 "Not long enough.  Three days.  Two 'n' a half if you count travel time."

 "Not long enough," echoed Megumi with a sigh, nuzzling his throat.  "But at least I get to drag you to Sanada-sensei and his family tomorrow evening.  They invite me to dinner every year.  Aoi-basan will be so happy if I finally bring an escort this time.  I bet you'll look absolutely dashing in one of those Western suits."  And she tugged at his jacket, smiling up at him with a meaningful glint in her cinnamon eyes.

 "Never liked 'em, but if you'll take me outta _this_ suit to get me into one o' those, I guess that's an acceptable compromise."  He returned her sly look with a half-meant leer.  "What time do you go home?" he whispered hungrily into her ear, hot breath and swift tongue teasing an irrepressible shiver out of her slender body.  "You _will_ go home, won't you?"

 "Not—not till around three."  Megumi, much distracted by the light rasp of his rough fingertips against the soft flesh of her upper arm, fought the growing haze in her mind to reply.  "I have to wait for the staff and the other doctors to start arriving first."

 "So I can't ravage your maidenly perfection with my manly urges for another three whole hours?"

The part disappointed, part impatient growl elicited a shaky laugh from deep in Megumi's throat.   "I'm afraid not, toriatama," she purred, slipping a pale hand into the shadows of his jacket; as chilled fingers skated over warm skin, his arm tightened convulsively around her waist.  "But that should make the ravaging even more enjoyable later on, ne?"

Brown eyes and white teeth flashed in a wry grin in the moonlight.  "Maybe I'll just kidnap those damn doctors from their houses..."

She frowned with mock severity.  "Don't tempt me.  I was already thinking of the same thing."

With some difficulty, she extricated herself from his embrace and walked over to the rapidly cooling noodles.  He lit the lamps as she knelt on the tatami and daintily set out the meal.

 "Shall we, then?"

He grinned back at her.  Two long, swift strides covered the distance, and he folded himself gracefully into a seat at the low table.  As the aroma of traditional Japanese cuisine enveloped him, he felt his grin grow even wider, more enthusiastic.  Megumi laughed, offering him the hashi.

 "To a new year, then?"

His hand covered hers as he took the chopsticks.  At the light, affectionate touch, the warm, clear gaze that accompanied it, Megumi felt a most un-spinsterlike heat bloom deep in her gut.

 "Aa."

In the distance, the solemn, joyous bells began to ring.

~ tsuzuku ~

Yes, "tsuzuku."  Sorry if you're sick to death already of this never-ending end...  Well you _could_ stop reading right here, but I still intend to tack on a proper epilogue, like any mushy waffy happy-ending romance fic... ^.^

 (Although, no, I don't think I'll be doing a wedding chapter.  I'd want an authentic traditional Buddhist/Shinto Japanese wedding for these two, but as I'm not a Nipponjin myself and anyway eriesalia-sama already did such a scene with great accuracy in "Another Chance" (plug! plug! If you haven't read this scrumptious Aoshi/Megumi fic yet, go NOW and search for it!! ^.^), can we just be happy instead with the visions in our imagination? ^.^)

Trivial note:  In the last two lines of dialogue above, I suppose it's not clearly indicated that it's first Megumi, then Sano talking.  But in a way I did mean for that to happen... the lines could be said by one to the other, and also the other way around; and it could be not just the new year they're talking about. (blather, blather.)

Sigh!  Such a sap I've become in these later chapters.  This last chapter is basically all fluff, ne? ^.^;  Well, well.  The next chapter _will_—I promise—end with "owari."  To the kind souls who reviewed (**Monigue, Sailor-Earth13, redbandana, Shiomei, loyanini, Lychee2, ChunkyMunky241, Aislinn6, eriesalia**) --my perennial thanks for your appreciation and constructive criticism! **g3ozLizh**, the epilogue is brewing as we speak! And yes, I'm afraid I _will_ succumb to the kokitsune cliche. Nyarhar. ^.^ **redbandana**, i hope you're back to normal now after your bout with sickness. Hope this little mushy-gushy story somehow helped you feel better. :( **Linay**, thanks for stopping by too; it's so cool to connect with a fellow Filipina living all the way over on the other side of the planet! ^.^ Domo arigatou, minna-dono!  (bows repeatedly with a huge irrepressible watery smile of thanks) ^.^


	19. Epilogue Haruichiban

**A/N.**  All right, all right, so I'm eating my words. @.@   I really shouldn't weasel out of the wedding chapter, so. ^.^;  From here on out, this is just plain gratuitous fluff.  Sorry if I'm letting anyone down with my giving in to the "wedding" cliché, but... but... aww, I'm just a sucker for happy gushy-mushy endings, is all.  'Specially after all that gloom and doom in the earlier chapters.  Gomen, gomen!  ^.^

This is, incidentally, a Shinto wedding.  I didn't think Sano was religious enough to want a Buddhist one, and Megumi seems to me the non-fussy time who doesn't much care for a lot of rituals.

glossary: 

nezumi = mouse

hanagami = a sort of Japanese tissue paper ^.^  (credit due to Nodoka-san of the KFFDISCML!) 

kirei = beautiful, pretty

-jiisan = suffix denoting a grandfather-type relationship

miko = girls serving at Shinto/Buddhist temples, fulfilling many functions in various religious rites

kanzashi = women's hair ornaments

daisuki = i.e. "I really like/love it..."

tsuno-kakushi = big white ceremonial hoodlike headgear traditional Japanese brides wear.  It's to hide the "horns of jealousy," and signifies the woman's obedience to her husband.

hakoseko = pouch-like bag carried by Japanese women

obi = wide, usually ornately embroidered kimono sash

uchikake = a brightly colored and patterned over-kimono worn by brides after the wedding ceremony proper; usually worn by young, unmarried women, this is the last time a bride can wear such a flashy-type kimono.

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Epilogue

Haru-ichiban

"'Kaachan, where's 'Touchan?  You said he'd come home today..."

Megumi stifled a sigh at the plaintive tone and turned, quickly drying her dishwater-damp hands on a towel.  Four-year-old Nozomi stood in the doorway of the kitchen, rosy-cheeked and fragrant from her evening bath, the long black hair her father refused to have cut slowly dripping down the back of her yukata.  The pretty picture she made in her yukata with its opalescent pattern of plum blossoms was ruined only by the sulky pout on her face.

 "Gomen nasai, Megumi-san!"  The flushed face of the family servant popped into view.  Apparently, she had chased the spirited girl all the way downstairs from the bath.  "I tried to keep her quiet, but she keeps asking for her father..."

 "Daijoubu.  There's been no harm done."  Megumi chuckled, moving to stand beside her daughter.  "Please just put Kisho-chan to bed, and then you may retire for the night."

As the much relieved servant padded off down the corridor, Megumi smiled down at her daughter's mournful cinnamon eyes.  _Ara... with parents like hers, it's no wonder she's so stubborn._

 "Come, little mouse who has to have people run after her."  Gently she steered the girl with one firm hand on her shoulder.  "You'll catch a cold with your hair so wet."

She led the child into her room and, from a drawer, brought out an ornately carved cedar comb.  Nozomi's frown turned immediately into an excited smile as she knelt at her mother's side.  Megumi's work was so demanding that she rarely had time to comb her daughter's thick, long hair; and though patient Michiko rarely pulled at tangles, she didn't use the pretty, aromatic combs Megumi did, nor were her hands as light and gentle.

Nevertheless, Nozomi would not be sidetracked, even as she picked up her mother's comb and began tracing the contours of roses with her small fingers.  "Didn't 'touchan say he'd be home by today?"

 "Hai, he did."  More amused than irritated by the child's persistence, Megumi began briskly drying her hair with a thick towel.

 "Well, it's night already.  'Touchan isn't here."  Nozomi was beginning to pout again.

 "Your father is as stubborn as you, Nozomi-chan."  Megumi's lightly spoken words she punctuated with a pinch of her daughter's ear.  "So when he says he'll be home on a certain day, he'll be home."

 "But we already had dinner," frowned Nozomi, absent-mindedly rubbing her ear.  'Touchan never misses dinner.  'Specially when 'kaachan cooks it."  She held the comb to her face, inhaled the delicate scent of the wood.

 "I'm sure he has a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he's late, nezumi-chan."  Megumi held out her hand for the comb.  "He's never let us down before, has he?"

Nozomi shook her head mutely, and as Megumi drew the comb down through the lustrous strands, she resolutely ignored the small, nagging doubt that was chilling the pit of her stomach.  Sanosuke was often sent away for days on end on special missions for the police, but he had always returned on the promised date, and he had never been away for this long.  It had been nearly a month now since he had left on another confidential errand.

 "At any rate, I'm sure he won't miss your birthday."  Chasing away her worries with a deep breath of the orange-blossom scent of her child's hair, Megumi teasingly touched Nozomi's cheek; she knew one principal reason her daughter was so upset about her father's unexplained tardiness.  "You just have to be patient."

 "Mou!  But 'patient' takes time!  And my birthday is in two days!"

_Yare yare._  Megumi sighed.  _When Sagara and Takani combine..._  "Patience does take time, Nozomi-chan, but it's usually worth the wait.  Do you want to wait up for him with 'kaachan, so you can greet him when he arrives?"

 "Hai!"  And Nozomi clapped her hands, her eyes alight with such excitement that Megumi soon laughed.  "Can 'kaachan bring out her pretty white kimono?  I would very much like to see it again, if it's all right with 'kaachan," she said with a sudden solemn respectfulness that brought a smile to her mother's lips.

"Only for a few minutes, and you must be very careful, or it will wear away and not be so pretty anymore when the time comes for you to have it for yourself."

And leaving Nozomi-chan to clasp the comb in her chubby little hands, wide-eyed in wonder at the granting of her wish, Megumi stood and padded over to a cabinet she always kept shut.  Unlocking it with a key from her sleeve and pushing aside various boxes and cases, she finally withdrew a large, shallow wooden chest.  As her daughter hovered in speechless eagerness over her shoulder, she unlatched the lid and threw it back.

From the translucent folds of many layers of hanagami emerged a wedding kimono, the pearlescent silk with its tracery of cranes and summer roses untroubled by time.  It was actually a very pale pink, not quite white; but in the shaded yellow lamplight, it gleamed like newfallen snow.  The scent of cedar filled the room from the wooden pieces stored inside the chest to help preserve its precious contents.  Megumi's smile grew wistful as she gathered the shimmering fabric and lifted it out of the case for her daughter to see.

Mouth hanging slightly open in admiration—this was only her second time to see it, and the first time her mother had been so tired from the day's duties that her father had sent her off to bed after only a few minutes—Nozomi reverently slid her fingers down the silken breadths.

 "Kirei..." she breathed, slightly moving the long sleeves so that light caught and glimmered in the intricate embroidery.

For the briefest moment, Megumi brushed the cool, smooth fabric against her cheek, memories misting her eyes.   "You will wear this when you get married, Nozomi-chan."

 "Did your 'kaachan give it to you too, 'kaachan?"

Carefully folding the kimono back into the chest, Megumi paused.  "Iie," she said quietly after a moment, stooping again to replace the protective layers of paper.  "This was something your father had made for me.  The one my mother wore, a long time ago... was lost when I was still quite young."

Nozomi waited silently until the case had been returned to its cabinet, then hurried forward and threw her arms around Megumi.

 "'Kaachan looks so sad," she mumbled, eyes so like her mother's warm with concern.

Megumi smiled at that, even as she hastily blinked back her tears.  "Shall we talk about something more cheerful, then?" 

Nozomi clapped her hands again, eyes creasing in a grin.  "Please!  Please!  About your wedding, and 'touchan!"

Her mother laughed and cuddled her close, picking up the cedar comb and resuming its soothing rhythm through her daughter's shining hair.  "You've heard it a dozen times already, little mouse.  Aren't you tired of that story?"

 "'Kaachan isn't."  And the little girl's bluntness brought another smile to Megumi's lips.  "So me neither."

Obligingly, Megumi settled into her plushiest chair; it would be a long evening yet.  "Well, where do we start?" she asked patiently, as Nozomi wriggled out of her lap and trotted across the room to retrieve, with some difficulty, an elaborately framed photograph from the wall.

 "From the start."  Nozomi stared at her mother as if to say, _Duh!_  "Hiroshi-jiisan's garden."

 "You are entirely too much like your mother, I'm afraid, Nozomi-chan."  Enfolding her child in her arms, fondly rubbing her chin against the silky hair, Megumi looked over the top of her head down at the photograph of her and Sanosuke in their full wedding regalia.  They had insisted on the picture being taken outside, at the site of the ceremony itself, despite the photographer's protests that a studio image was far more fashionable; and so Megumi found happy memories all the easier to recall in the roses edging the picture in pale spots, the sunlight dappling black and white outfits with frozen grays and sepias.

 "'Touchan insisted that it be at dawn on a summer day.  We had it in your grandfather's gardens, since he wanted to have the roses blooming all around us, and he said that was my kind of flower.  I remember it was uncommonly cold the night before, so we feared it would rain, but then the day began bright and clear, and the scent of roses was headier than ever..."

The air was still chill and damp with night as many figures gathered on the smooth Western-style lawns of the Sanada estate.  Bathed in the soft glow of the garden lanterns, two or three servants bustled about setting up a makeshift shrine under their master's supervision; several other men and women stood or sat around calmly, if rather stiffly in their traditional formal clothes, chatting in low tones; but one, among the tallest of them all, said hardly a word but kept moving around agitatedly, long limbs seeming to find no rest among the dew-wet blossoms and elegant vines.

 "Pre-wedding jitters, eh, Sano?  A grown man like you who's roughed it across the world and back and you're scared about a little ceremony."  Myoujin Yahiko smirked at the older man, who responded with a lethal glare.

 "Don't relive your own wedding on me, Yahiko-_chan_.  I'll have you know it's just these silly clothes.  Wish I were back in my old normal duds, not these stupid crinkly ones."  Sagara Sanosuke rustled impatiently in his formal gi, hakama, and haori.

 "_I_ wasn't that nervous when I married you, was I?"  And Yahiko grinned at Tsubame, who merely blushed and stammered something soft and incoherent.

 "In fact, Sagara looks more like Himura did on his wedding day," observed Shinomori Aoshi blandly from where he leaned up against a trellis post.  "A bit of a cross between joy and nausea."

 "Really, Shinomori-san?" asked Himura Kenji, unexpectedly breaking a meditative silence he had preserved since waking up.

 "Yeah, who'da thought my bull-headed son would get weak in the knees at a time like this?"  But though his voice was scornful, Higashidani Kamishimoemon grinned at Sano from behind his pipe.

 "It's a perfectly natural feeling," chuckled old Sanada Hiroshi as he joined the group, warming his hands with a cup of tea.  "It's been a long, long time, but I do remember I felt much the same way when I married my Aoi."  Behind him, his wife beamed at them from over a teapot.

 "It's quite an unusual kind of wedding altogether, but it suits you two perfectly," said Higashidani Outa as he helped the elderly lady distribute cups.

 "I apologize again for the trouble, Sanada-sensei—" began Sano, bowing awkwardly, but Hiroshi shook his head with a frown until the younger man trailed off, much gratified.  Then he looked upset again.

 "I'm just worried she's gonna change her mind, is all."  Leaning gingerly against a stone lantern, taking care not to crease his clothes, Sanosuke accepted the offered tea gratefully, glad for the modicum of color it restored to his pale face.  "You know how women are, and the Megitsune is definitely all woman."

 "I don't think oneesan will change her mind, Sano-niisan," said Saburo soothingly from where he sat quietly with his own wife and Uki's husband on a nearby bench.  The third Sanada son, younger than Sano by several years, gave Sano the smile of a man who had gone through exactly the same thing not long before.  "You may rest easy on that."

 "Yeah, it's not like you haven't been makin' eyes at each other practically since the day you met.  And to think you used to beat me up whenever I said anything about it.  Man, wherever he is, Kenshin's gotta be kickin' himself for not bein able to see this."  Yahiko smiled down at his teacup.

Sano's well-aimed punch was arrested in midair by this last statement, and he reluctantly let his fist drop.  "Aa.  Kenshin and Jou-chan are all we're missin' now."

His voice had dropped a notch, but his words stirred the stillness of very early morning, and everyone heard them.  In the sudden silence that fell, each man retreated into his own thoughts as the first bright rays cut across the somnolent sky.

Sanada Jiro had just arrived with the priest and miko when Misao emerged from the house, uncommonly feminine in a deep blue kimono that shimmered with embroidered sakura.  Her hair was coiled and looped in an unusual but very attractive style; tiny silver flowers tinkled from her kanzashi with every dainty step.  She bowed and spoke to everyone as she drew near, but her bright jade eyes went unerringly to Aoshi's; and Sanosuke, watching silently, thought he saw a smile flash for the briefest of moments across the normally impassive face.

 "If everything is ready, the bride will be out right away."

 "Everything is ready, Misao-chan," said Hiroshi softly, smiling as his wife, sons, and daughter-in-law moved to stand beside him.

 "Yokatta."  Misao's formal politeness gave way to a more characteristic, excited grin.  "Harumi-san and Uki-san will assist the bride, then.  Better brace yourself, Sagara, you're in for a really special treat," and elbowing Sano in the gut so unexpectedly he choked, she gave him a most informal smile and wink before going to Aoshi.

 "Your icy eyes are melting again, Aoshi-sama, you must say _something_ before you start drooling," she whispered wickedly to her husband, as she composed herself at his side.  She was well enough rewarded by the twine of his fingers through hers and the quiet word "Daisuki" he murmured into her ear.

Perhaps it was simply mere coincidence or perhaps even divine intervention, Kenshin and Kaoru as spirits prevailing somehow on the ethereal powers-that-were; but just as Harumi, Jiro's wife, and Uki appeared on the path from the house, the first white-gold rays broke the predawn gray and swept the garden.  And Sanosuke, staring eagerly beyond the two women, caught his breath as a slender figure in white emerged from the darkness of the house, like a pearl suddenly shining from the shadowy depths of the sea.

Sunlight caught and glimmered lovingly in the bridal kimono whose brocaded silk Sanosuke had obtained from friends in China.  He hadn't much cared about the tradition of virginal white, but Megumi had refused to wear it; and as she moved slowly down the path toward the bower where everyone waited, the barely perceptible blush of the silk, echoing the pale hues of the fragrant roses that bobbed with the breeze all around them, caused not a few of those present to cast speculative glances Sanosuke's way.

But he never noticed, for his gaze was riveted to the woman who came to stand quietly by his side.  She kept her head modestly lowered, and from his height the tsuno-kakushi concealed her face, revealing only the immaculate hairstyle whose kanzashi glistened with mother-of-pearl inlay.  Sano had little appreciation for women's clothing, but now he took an unfamiliar pleasure in the embroidered cranes taking flight down her back, the silvery roses climbing along her sleeves.  The motif was repeated in Megumi's traditional hakoseko, and even the fan tucked into her obi would open later to show roses delicately embossed in the paper.

The ritual passed in a blur, and it seemed to Sanosuke to last only moments and agonizing eons at the same time.  When the purification rite was finished, the miko brought forth the ceremonial sake.  No one broke the hush, although Sano's hands trembled visibly as he sipped from the little dish; Megumi's, by contrast, were steady and graceful.  After they had made the offering of tree branches that signified the end of the main rite, sake was shared in solemn silence among the couple's now united families.

As the Sanadas passed on the drink to Yahiko and Tsubame, Kenji, Aoshi and Misao, Uki, Outa, and Kamishimoemon, Sano at last dared to take the slender white hand that was now his; he was startled to find very cold fingers upon his warm palm.  In answer to his quick, puzzled glance, Megumi upturned her face to his very briefly, for a flash of red-painted smile.  Smiling back, Sano carefully folded her chill hand in both of his.

The raucous reception that followed contrasted sharply with the quiet dignity of the wedding ceremony.  Over her bridal kimono, Megumi wore a crimson uchikake, intricately sewn with gold-tinged irises by a former patient.  She and Sano sat close together, rarely touching or even speaking in a most uncharacteristic fit of mutual shyness that lasted well into the second course.

But soon the free-flowing, excellent Aizu sake took its toll, and Megumi eventually reverted to her normal self—discussing a problem at the hospital with Sanada Hiroshi in the brisk, businesslike tones of a true directress, slapping at Sano's hands as he tried to put clearly too much food into his mouth at one blow, planning house decorations with Misao and Tsubame, laughing her loud kitsune-onna laugh as Yahiko slipped her a heartbroken letter from Akira.

 "No regrets yet, Sanosuke?  You'll be seeing those fox ears a lot more often for the rest of your life."  And grinning teasingly at his newly wedded friend, the descendant of Tokyo samurai stretched out beneath a hospitable maple tree.

 "I'll make sure to torment her more than she torments me, anyway," said Sano with an answering smirk, polishing off a tray of desserts as compensation for the discomfort and inconvenience of his formal garb.  "Oei, Kenji, why didn'tcha bring your girlfriend?" he asked of Kenji, who sat nearby, somewhat apart from everyone else.  "I thought we included her in the invitation."

Flushing, Kenji paused with a cup of sake halfway to his lips.  "Kiriko-chan sends her apologies.  Her mother is ill, so she couldn't leave."

 "Make sure Megitsune packs off Tsubame with a boatload of medicine, then.  You plannin' on staying with us here for a while, ne?  I ain't gonna be usin' Fuuko for some time."

Kenji brightened; he loved riding, and he was thrilled at the prospect of exploring the beautiful Aizu countryside.  "I would very much appreciate that kindness, Sagara-san."

 "Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts, kid."  Sano grinned and leaned back, propping himself up on his hands and gazing around with what Yahiko suspected was affection.  His quick brown eyes found Megumi, resplendent in her bright kimono some distance away, talking quietly with the Higashidanis.

Couched deeply as ever in his perpetual air of calm purpose, Aoshi strode toward them with a cup of tea.  "I take it you'll be producing offspring soon, Sagara?"

Stoically enduring the odd looks Yahiko and Kenji shot him, he folded his long legs gracefully into a seating position.

Sano sweatdropped.   "Trying out small talk, eh, Shinomori?"

 "Frivolous though it is, I find it indispensable in certain situations.  Such as when Misao is not around to engage in it for me."  Imperturbably, he sipped his tea.  "However, and more importantly, I also asked with regard to Takani-sensei's health.  Her physique is exceptional, her constitution excellent, but at her age childbearing may pose difficulties for her."

Despite a second sweatdrop—only he could admire a woman's body so dryly—Sano nodded.  At least this was more the Aoshi he knew.  "Aa.  I asked her this myself, but she said she'd be fine for a good while yet.  She's the doctor, so..."  He trailed off with a shrug and a ready grin.

 "—So it's all right, then, is it, Sano?" Yahiko asked cheerfully.

Sano smiled, watching Megumi again as she poured sake for her adoptive family.  For a long minute he did not speak, keen eyes tracking her every graceful movement, the elegant drape and sweep of her festive clothing.  Then, "Aa.  I guess you could say that."

As if sensing his eyes on her, Megumi turned in his direction and blushed slightly beneath his direct, unabashed gaze.  Excusing herself from the Sanadas, she made her way over to them, still bearing the sake jug.

 "And what have you been up to, boys?" she asked flirtatiously, kneeling beside Sanosuke and pouring him sake, as well as Kenji and Yahiko.  "Have you been picking on my poor, defenseless husband while I've been away?"

This time it was Kenji who sweatdropped; Aoshi took another unruffled sip of his tea; and Yahiko grinned.  "Of course we have, Megumi.  You don't think we'd stop just 'cause he's gotten himself hitched to the kitsune-onna, ne?"

 "On the contrary, Yahiko, I'd encourage you if you only needed it.  The tsuno-kakushi was only for tradition, after all.  This toriatama will always need keeping in line.  Ohh-hohohohohoh!"

Sano sipped his sake with a grin and let it go.  He would wait for his revenge, which would undoubtedly come with the night.

For now, he basked in the knowledge that real happiness lay behind the coy, well-practiced laugh, as it had not for too long; and tucking his hands behind his head, he lay back against a tree trunk and watched a flurry of rose petals drift by.  When Megumi turned to him with a smile that was both teasing and apologetic—as only _she_ knew how to put them together and still produce an extremely pleasing whole—he gazed in an unutterable satisfaction at the lively, beautiful woman in the bright robes before him.  She laid her hand on his; he clasped the cool, smooth fingers without a word, and was content.

"Tadaima!"

 "'Touchan!"

In a flash, Nozomi had slid from Megumi's lap and run out the door; her mother, shaking her head over the heedless enthusiasm of childhood, carefully replaced the photograph on the wall before heading out to greet her husband.

Nozomi was perched gleefully on his broad shoulder when she found him in the front hall.  Megumi approached with a smile.

 "Okaeri nasai, toriatama."

He grinned back and caught her up in a wordless embrace.  Megumi sighed—she had missed the solid warmth of his arms so very much; laying her cheek against his chest, through the thick layers of his winter uniform she could still feel his heart beat, strong and steady and sure.

Tenderly he kissed the top of her head.  "I'm sorry I was late..."

 "It's nothing."  She smiled up at him.  "You're home now."

 "'Touchan hungry!"  And Nozomi added emphasis to her proclamation by kicking sharp little heels into her father's shoulders until he winced and brought her down onto the cradle of his arm.  Chuckling, Megumi went on to the kitchen to warm the food she had prepared.

 "And what's my little mouse been doing while I was away?  Not bothering 'kaachan, I hope?"

 "I been collecting pretty stones!"

 "Out in the frost?  You coulda gotten sick..."

 "No, Shinji-chan gets them for me, and I just pick what I like, then he puts 'em back where he got 'em."

 "Ora ora!  Making a slave of that boy already, nezumi-chan?"

 "He _wants_ to do it!"

 "We've gotta keep a closer eye on her, she's just too cute at her age," muttered Sano as he passed Megumi by the stove.

She gave him a sweet smile.  "Takes after her mother, I daresay."

 "Too bad, but it definitely looks like that..."

In the gray days when winter turns at last to spring, a strong wind called _haru-ichiban_ blows across Aizu from the southwest, heralding the coming thaw.  In time, the plum and cherry trees bud and blossom.  And the people bestir themselves from their wintry sleep, for the sun has returned, and life begins anew.

~ owari ~

**A/N.**  Sigh... It's done at last.  Getting sentimental now.  Betcha couldn't tell, what with all the blushing and stammering and sweatdropping going on around here.  ^.^

This will be yet another long and blathery, self-absorbed note not entirely necessary to enjoyment of the story... so just don't say I didn't warn you, ne? ^.^

1)  I see Sano and Megumi as two very unconventional people: Sano the perpetual brash young rebel (now turned uber-cop ^.^) and Megumi the pioneering onna-sensei.  This is due in large part to the enormous courage and strength of character they have, as well as the unique circumstances in which they grew older.  Tomboyish Misao would probably be reined in a little by Aoshi, and Kaoru, even though she _is_ a fairly violent kenjutsu teacher who can't cook to save her life (literally, in Enishi's case...) and who allows a homeless, unemployed man to live with her for at least six months, is still a bit too naïve and pure-hearted to truly go against the norm.  But Megumi in order to succeed in her chosen career _must_ dare to be a little more original, and Sanosuke, of course, will only encourage that.  This in part is why I chose not to have her as a plain-white kinda bride.  (Lemon readers will know this in a bit greater detail... ^.^)  And anyway, off-white bridal kimonos weren't totally unheard of.  I saw this really beautiful kimono on the Web that was bluish.  Kirei!

My image also of these two as a married couple (...sigh...) is one of prosperity and stability.  Megumi is, of course, the very hardworking and capable director of a big hospital now, so she's got to receive plenty of recompense for her skills.  And Sano I imagine has had enough of the itinerant lifestyle and is all too happy to settle down and make babies with his beloved fox. ^.^

Megumi also strikes me as supremely feminine.  I saw it once on a S/M website I now forget which:  Sano and Megumi sort of complement each other because they're, like, super-masculine plus super-feminine.  Hence the pretty combs and ornaments Megumi uses.

2)  For once, I stopped haphazardly pulling Japanese names out of my limited anime databank (hence Takako, Hideki, Hiromu, Shinji, and so on ^.^) and actually did some research.  "Nozomi" means "hope."  I wanted it for Megumi and Sano's first child, seeing as how they're starting considerably late in life and are on the very brink of a whole new century, full of changes.  It would also speak of how they've found the strength and courage together to keep looking forward to a bright, though uncertain, future.

Megumi and Sano's nickname for Nozomi is "little mouse" or "nezumi-chan."  A bit of wordplay on my part.  Gomen, gomen, just indulging myself here, again. ^.^

 "Kisho" roughly translates to "one who knows his own mind."  Okay, this was strictly Net research on baby names, so I really don't know if this name was already in use in late 1890s Japan... but it _is_ a really cool and appropriate name for a son of these two, don't you think?

3)  Megumi is 37 at her summer wedding, Sano 35.  As women get closer to 40 years of age, the risk of birth defects like retardation increases alarmingly.  But of course, Nozomi-chan and Kisho-chan are perfectly healthy, if precocious, children.  And Megumi should be able to make it to at least three strong, robust kids, if I have anything to say about it....  _

4)  Depicted above was, as I said, essentially a Shinto wedding.  As Outa said, it's relatively unusual in that it's held not at a shrine but at a private home.  However, such a wedding is not entirely unheard of.

Random notes about the ceremony and stuff:  The bridal kimono and uchikake are usually passed on to the next generation, or made into futon bedding.  Cranes mate for life, and so symbolize longevity and married bliss.  Irises signify love.  Red is a lucky color for the Japanese, promising wealth and happiness, and thus is a popular color for uchikake.  Fans at weddings symbolize many long years of happiness, with the way they fold out to the end.  A small encased sword or _kaiken_ is also traditionally carried by a bride.

I'll repost this chapter if I have to, if I remember any more Author's Notes that I need to make... so sorry for my very bad memory. @.@  So I move on for now to the never-fading thanks that go to—

**eriesalia**, for never failing to promptly review my unworthy chapters.  Both constructive, tactful criticism and intelligent praise.  Here's yet another fan lookin' up to ya!  I'm afraid I'm not too good with comedy, so I kinda flubbed the part you asked for about Sano and Megumi dragging the Kenshingumi into their wedding… But I just might follow through on the inspiration you've given me and craft an Aoshi-Megumi story of my own.  Maybe.  

**redbandana**, for the effusive, loyal reviews that only illness could hold back (harhar).  If I answer your reviews in my chapters, that's the least I can do, and that's a habit I got from eriesalia. ^.^  I'm glad you liked the lemon!  And about writing that kind of stuff... it's all right, it took me a long, long time of waffling before I finally wrote my first .  And this is only my second.  So you're not alone. ^.^

**g3ozLizh, KitKat8**, thank you so much for sharing your emotions so freely with me...  I am so happy and honored to be able to touch another's heart. ^.^  Knowing that in my own little way I can commune with another spirit someway across the planet in the truths of the soul brings me much comfort... that the eyebags and sleep-deprivation zits are worth it.  Sigh!  **KitKat8**, I am especially honored to have received your review, especially since, as you said, you give those so rarely.   Arigatou!  And **g3ozLizh**, we're in agreement on that: I want them to live happily ever after too...  Yay Sano/Megumi!

**Linay**, I do remember you way back from the KFFDISCML.  This unworthy one is privileged to have such a venerable name in RK fanfic-dom on her reviews page! ^.^

**jerjonji**, glad to have shared my humble little "vision" with you.  We just want what's best for the rooster and the fox, don't we??

**Sailor-Earth13**:  nuh-uh!  The fact that you've actually registered onto ffnet is an act of bravery.  I myself took about three months hovering around the site before I actually got up the guts to actually sign in.  Just keep reading, and then the itch to write will be so bad it'll call up its own courage all by itself.  You just have to believe that you've got talent simmering in you.  And as you've no doubt seen, the ffnet readers are usually very kind, so no need to be afraid of nasty readers... ^.^

To these oh-so-gracious reviewers and all the other readers who have taken time and energy to follow my story, I owe massive gratitude.  To those also who have deigned to have me on their lists (**the lost samurai, babeekoko, kaimamiru, Mistress Battousai, blahblahHOBO, purpo kitee katx, loyanini, CrismHeart, kakashi-fan, CEEGEE**)—even if it's not for this story, but for my other thingies—my thanks and blushing cheeks as well.  ^.^

I'm no Pulitzer winner, but I still hope I have, in some tiny way, managed to bring a bit more love and cheer and silly romantic shit-eating grins to your everyday lives. ^.^  If I have been able to do so, then I rest my pen for now and am content. ^.^  Arigatou gozaimashita!!


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